Carpe Diem
by The Authoress Complex
Summary: Ratchet is suicidal. Clank is learning to live. And a vicious cycle has begun. A Ratchet and Clank Dramatization, with spoilers for future games, added dialogue and changes to the script. No pairings.
1. Prologue: Clockwork

The only reason the old grandfather clock was there was for the quiet moments not unlike this. The wise machine towered over both its master and her guest, older than the polished wooden frame and shimmering brass chimes would suggest. It did not quite fit in with the otherwise modern office; the sleek new furniture and the lustrous console on the desk. Not even it's ability to keep time was required, thanks to the digital clock on the wall above the door. The only reason the old gizmo was needed was for it's constant metronome.

_Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock._

It was the only sound holding off the lonely buzzing of silence as the two occupants of the modern office sat in complete quiet. The taller of the two was the clock's master, a tidy and professional looking woman with an even stare, lips pressed together into a thin line. Her gaze was directed downward, for the most part, at a clipboard, where she made occasional scribbles but, mostly, just read the same lines over and over again. On occasion, her gaze left the black lines to watch her charge, sitting opposite of her on a considerably comfortable looking couch.

He was her exact opposite, her charge. Where as the clock's master kept her hair and fur neat and tidy, the boy's was unkempt, at best. Where as she dressed professionally, he clearly just threw on the first pair of clean pants he saw. Where as her eyes had focus, be it on her young charge or her paperwork, his gaze was indistinct, watching the plain white ceiling tiles without aim.

This session was typical. It began when the clock's largest hand was angled straight upward, while its shorter partner was pointed at the elegantly painted number four. She always tried to ask him questions; filling the void of empty sound with her calm tone while he sat exactly as he did now, omitting her voice pointedly even as she tried to do her job. The clock currently read five minutes to five, and she had given up her inquiry several minutes previously, instead taking notes as her charge -once again- ignored her.

"Hey, Doc?" The smaller male asked, in a carefree tone that caused most to eye him with suspicion, "Look, it's almost been an hour. How about you just sign that paper and I get out of your hair?"

The woman frowned pointedly at him; a controlled expression that showed only impersonal disapproval at his request, "I'm sorry, Ratchet. I'm not going to risk losing my license because you get a little antsy," She adjusted the slim frames resting on her nose and forced their gazes to meet, "If you would just cooperate with me, though, you wouldn't have to come here every week."

"I don't NEED to be here," Ratchet objected, propping himself up on his elbows as his expression and tone changed from carefree to agitated in an instant, "I'm FINE. There's nothing wrong with me."

With professional detachment, the doctor stated, bluntly, "You tried to kill yourself."

A moment of silence persisted, where the drone of the grandfather clock became dominant once again.

"...that was a year ago," Ratchet pointed out, still clearly upset, but with none of the kick of his earlier words, "It was a mistake. I'm not going to do it again."

There was the sound of scribbling as the doctor quickly jotted something down, before looking back up at her patient, "I wish I could believe you, Ratchet," She stated, neutrally, "I honestly wish I could. But you've given me no reason to believe that you won't attempt something like this again. If anything, you're exactly the type of person who'd try something like that again."

Something between a scoff and a snort escaped the young male, tinged with disbelief, "Oh, yeah, I'm the ideal candidate for depression. You're telling me a ten year old in an orphanage can hang himself in his room and it's perfectly okay, but a teenage Lombax swallows a few pills in a restroom and suddenly everyone and their mother has to drop everything and pretend to care?"

"No," The doctor shook her head, "That's not what I'm saying at all... but it's interesting that you chose that particular example."

The clock's symmetrical thrum reigned supreme once again. This lasted for quite some time.

"Look, lady," Ratchet sat up, squinting in irritation at the woman sitting across from him, far too calmly. The tail that had previously been dangling and waving uselessly over the other side of the couch was suddenly tense and still behind him, "You wanna help someone? Fine. Go down to the local orphanage. I guarantee you half the kids you meet there think about suicide on a daily basis. Oh, but wait," His expression turned into one of mock sympathy, "You wouldn't get paid if you did that, would you? No, better just to sit there and get paid for pretending to give a damn while I, who actually has to work for a living, gets stuck in here wasting time!"

There was silence again. The doctor's expression was infuriatingly impartial to the Lombax's speech, even as Ratchet himself took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Then, there was the sound of more scribbling, which earned a frustrated growl from the room's other occupant. At long last, the larger hand was once again pointing to the sky, while it's partner had shifted from four to five. In correspondence, five loud chimes roared through the small room, effectively soothing the teenager, if just a little.

Without a glance to the doctor, Ratchet stood abruptly, taking a moment to stretch his limbs before treading as quickly as he could towards the door. He kept his head and shoulders straight, conducting himself proudly even despite the conversation that had just occurred. On the other hand, the female remained seated, watching every step her charge took intently, as though they held some sort of clue she had missed. As Ratchet reached for the doorknob, she called to him, "I'll see you next week, Ratchet."

Without any sort of response, Ratchet quickly let himself out, leaving only the doctor and her clock. Patient gone, she released a sigh, making a final note on the stationary resting in her lap. The only noise that sounded in the office for quite some time was that of the clock's beating ticks.

* * *

"Sigmund! Oh, Sigmund!"

The former maintenance bot lifted his head suddenly at the familiar voice's call, bumping into the pipe right above his head. Grumbling some, he gave it a rub to check for damage -or rather, further damage- and, upon finding none, quickly floated in the direction of the voice, wondering why Orvus would be calling him.

Not that he was complaining, of course, but it seemed odd for the Senior Caretaker of the Great Clock to suddenly summon his Junior Caretaker without any prior warning to... whatever was important enough to occupy his attention. Then again, it seemed odd that the Senior Caretaker of the Great Clock would choose a defective maintenance bot from Zordoom as his Junior Caretaker, as opposed to some brilliant supercomputer or some tough war machine. It had been... hundreds? Thousands?...quite a lot of years, and it was still as surreal and amazing as his first day on the job.

He ended up finding his superior in a distant chamber of the clock, back turned to the entryway. Metaphorically swallowing his nerves, Sigmund moved cautiously to his friend and boss, hands being clenched together, lest they begin shaking. Upon realizing he hadn't been noticed, Sigmund announced himself quietly, "Sir..."

"Ah! Sigmund!" Without turning completely, Orvus' head moved to face his younger companion, arms curled into his chest as though to protect something, "I'm glad your here. Come! I want you to meet someone!"

Curious -and more than a little nervous- Sigmund approached his senior with caution. With a grin that was more than delighted, Orvus turned around completely, allowing the baffled Sigmund to get a glimpse of what he had been cradling: a glowing green light, small enough to fit comfortably into his hands. It was held forth slightly to allow Sigmund to examine it, which he did. The maintenance bot peered at it cautiously, optics running over the smooth green glow without quite knowing what he was supposed to see.

"Uh..." Sigmund mumbled, then blurted out, "It's a very nice star, sir," As soon as the words slipped out, the younger bot felt the distinct urge to slap himself in the face, even as Orvus' smile morphed from pride to amusement.

"Oh, dear Sigmund," He spoke, not unkindly, "This is no star! What I am holding here... is XJ-0641. My son," The pride returned to his eyes as he gazed down at the softly radiating light, "Or his soul, rather. I've been working on it for about a year now, and it's finally complete."

The little light seemed to glow a bit brighter, and Sigmund could only stare at it in amazement. The 'secret project' his old friend had been working so hard on for so long was this little piece of life. He didn't know what would come of it, but already the small light felt like a part of their little family, "Hi there," Sigmund greeted, a mix of nerves and excitement, "XJ-0641. Uh, welcome to the Great Clock."

For some reason, Orvus' amusement grew, and Sigmund blinked in surprise when the older robot started chuckling fondly in that bizarre, distinct laugh, "Oh, Sigmund, he cannot hear you," The younger of the two rubbed the back of his head, more than a little confused, "You see, XJ-0461 has not been born yet."

Oddly, the words did nothing to help Sigmund's confusion.

"Let me explain," Orvus began, with a kind smile, "In the Solana galaxy there exists a robot factory run by a supercomputer. As we speak, she is currently finishing production on a small robot which, in one week's time, will be born and sent out to stop her creator -a rather unpleasant fellow by the name of Drek- from destroying the Solana galaxy. But," There was a brief pause, and a look of sadness fell over Orvus. Sigmund gulped and braced himself for bad news, "there will be an error in the production. A Blargian override in one of the program chips will reprogram the little robot to serve Drek, and he will report his mother. The Solana galaxy will be destroyed in a few short years."

He looked overwhelmingly sad as he announced this, but brightened up before Sigmund could respond, "That is why I created this!" He held the orb slightly higher, showing off the neon green radiance, "With a soul, all influence by both parties will be neutralized, allowing him to do the right thing of his own accordance," His optics glistened fondly at the orb, "He will be able to act of his own free will, outside of his programming's parameters, a privilege only defective robots have enjoyed until now," Blinking, he added suddenly, "No offense, Sigmund."

The maintenance bot shrugged, having already accepted the label, "Eh, I've been called worse."

He was met with a small, sad smile, before Orvus' attention once again fell on the orb, "It may be a while before my son is able to join us here at the Great Clock... so we have some time to prepare," Both of the robots laughed heartily at this, "But in the meanwhile, I must get ready to head out into the Solana galaxy. I must be there for his birth."

Sigmund nodded, watching the little orb shimmer in waves with each of Orvus' words. His friend had stated that the little orb could not hear them, but it seemed to react vibrantly to the sound of Orvus' voice -recognizing it's father, he supposed. The light cascaded off of the little thing as Orvus held it out once more, so that both robots could admire the brilliance of a newly created soul together.

"You know, Sigmund," Orvus spoke quietly, after a moment, "I think I've always wanted a son."

* * *

Authoress' Notes: I do not own Ratchet and Clank.

I'm... not quite sure how I came up with this. I started writing a fanfiction-ization of the first R&C game some time ago, but deleted it because it just felt... weightless. I dunno. I didn't really add anything. This, however, I'm certain will add something, at least. Expect headcannons, changed dialogues and analysis on our characters. Also, the update schedule... yeah, not sure how that's gonna work out. I guess I'll upload every Monday I can, cause what better way to improve your Monday than a fanfiction update, right? I know that would certainly lift my spirits! ...I was a lonely child. Have I ever told you that?

What did I do good on?: I really like the part in the first section where I was describing stuff. Like the clock and the doctor and Ratchet. I didn't give Doc Know-It-All (as Ratchet calls her later) a name 'cause A) I don't think Ratchet cares all that much and B) I don't think YOU care all that much.  
What did I fail on?: My headcannons. Not the headcannons themselves, but how I describe them. It just doesn't feel like I did it right. I'm sure you can tell what they are.

Random Question for Reviewers: What does silence sound like for you? I mean, complete and total silence, no sound anywhere. For me, it sounds like a buzzing in my ear. It's high-pitched and really annoying, which is why I play so much music.


	2. Veldin: Escape

Ribbon was, by far, the most beautiful ship Ratchet had ever seen.

It hardly mattered to him that she was clunky and awkward looking, with slabs of random metal covering holes in the cockpit that couldn't be repaired properly due to lack of equipment. Nor did it matter that most of her was salvaged from broken parts of different ships that had required not only repair, but extreme modification to work. She was his baby; his brainchild; the product of about two years of hard work and blood and sweat and tears. And blood. A whole lotta blood. Especially the parts that had required him the usage of sharp-edged tools. But he couldn't bring himself to think badly of his baby. After all, she was his ticket off of this forsaken rock of inbred idiots and illiterate imbeciles.

For the past year or so, Ratchet had really upped his game in her production. As soon as he figured out how to work a part into his blueprints, in it went. Anything that was salvaged and repaired but not required for the completion of the beautiful Ribbon was sold to some technologically clueless yup back in town who would surely break it and throw it out again. And then he would find it, fix it and sell it again. And thus, a cycle is born. Ugh. Thank goodness for Ribbon, whose promise of escape offered hope and who's rough, beaten systems could handle his rage as he channeled his anger and disgust at Veldin into inventive energy, making him work faster and harder.

But today, Ratchet wasn't working on his ship to vent his frustrations, or to have an excuse to wiggle under the heat exhaust in the cutting cold of the desert night. No, that morning he went to work with a huge grin on his face. Because his baby was almost complete.

If felt like so long ago that the Ribbon was merely an idea, a blueprint to comfort him in the middle of the night. Someday, those encouraging dreams demanded, someday I'll get off this rock. But then that incident happened and... he needed that dream to be a reality. He simply couldn't stay here and face another monotonous week of selling fixed parts for spare bolts and facing up to Doc Know-it-all and her intensive grilling as she searched for some deep, psychological issue that didn't exist. Anything, ANYTHING was better than that!

With one last glance at the blueprint, Ratchet went to work installing the final part: an online navigation system. The best he could find, and one of the few things he couldn't fix if it broke. Not that he didn't know anything about computers; he just wasn't as software savvy as he was with the hardware. It had taken him forever to find a working one, and not a moment too soon; it was therapy night, and he wanted to be off this rock before the Doc got wind of his plans.

With a twist and a _blip_, the computer slowly booted to life, giving a faint blue glow within the hull. The luminescence was only splintered by a crack in the screen, the only evidence that the otherwise new and squeaky clean machine had not been purchased, but salvaged. Ship after ship, time after time, computer after computer, and SO many unsalvageable ones. He didn't know whether to call this one luck or what, but he wasn't going to waste his blessing. And now that it was installed, he was finally... FINALLY... ready...

No, something didn't seem right. The part had been installed correctly, but Ribbon didn't feel complete. His gut lurched at the sight, every instinct telling him she wasn't done yet. Ratchet stared at it. Then he stared at it sideways. Then he probed his memory of the blueprint for anything that might have gone wrong. Then, when all that was over, he relented and activated his Helpdesk scanner.

The Helpdesk was a tool that most practicing mechanics simply HAD to own. It wasn't required by law to have one or anything, but it was almost like not having one made you less credible. He'd heard its validity debated on the radio as a child, and when he grew up, he bought one the first moment he could. And... he was incredibly let down. The explanations they gave were so simple and basic that they lost the teenager almost immediately. The Helpdesk wasn't the amazing informational tool he kept hearing about. It was a step-by-step guide for people who've never held a wrench in their lives.

But in the past year, he found himself using it more and more. Not necessarily because he needed to -almost everything that he worked with he could understand perfectly, with time- but because... well... that voice. It was dignified and elegant and not stuck up. It sounded intelligent, and that's just what Ratchet had needed to keep himself sane; to talk to someone intelligent, even if they never talked back. He wondered, sometimes, if she could hear him when he talked back to her. Probably not. She probably didn't even care. But at least she was there when he needed her. That was more than he could say for anyone he'd ever met in his life.

"Greetings," The feminine, and somewhat cheerful, voice stated as she had millions of other times before, "and thank you for choosing the Gadgetron Helpdesk. We appreciate your business," There was a pause, presumably as whoever was on the other line read over the results of the scan, "Final Step: Attach navigation system confirmed. Warning: Navigation System identified as Gadgetron Navcomp version 7.3. Robotic Ignition System required for activation. Final Step: Attach Robotic Ignition System. Thank you again for choosing Gadgetron Helpdesk technology."

Ah, right. Most Navigation Systems attached to ship's nowadays had separate power sources from the ship, in order to prevent overloading the engines in case of a critical emergency. However, said power source usually required remote activation. Most companies had this outside activation be a button you install in the ship, or a key you have to stick into the computer, but _no_. Gadgetron just HAD to come up with the brilliant idea of a Robotic Ignition System. A mini AI program that connects into the Navigation Computers and remotely sets the coordinates. Effective, if you were a robot, but Ratchet clearly was not. No, he was organic, and organics had to go through the trouble of buying a special, expensive glove in order to interface with their own ships.

Sometimes, Gadgetron sucked.

With a deep sigh, Ratchet leaned back against the ship, burying his face in his leather-clad hands. Every bit of spare money he had went into this ship, and it would certainly cost at least just as much -at most double the price- to purchase a Robotic Ignition System directly from Gadgetron. And this wasn't something he could just salvage; most RIS's were either installed within a robot or installed within a glove. Finding one would be impossible unless he took up corpse robbing, and as desperate as he was, Ratchet would avoid sinking to that particular low as long as he could, thank you.

...He still had therapy tonight. Crap.

With a sigh, Ratchet took a glance upward at the dual moons hanging above Veldin, and the promise for a better life beyond them that their silvery hue seemed to give. It was chalked up as simply another broken promise and the Lombax returned to his work with an air of resignation. Even if he couldn't start this hunk of metal and blood stains quite yet, he could still make her more fast, more resilient, more _anything_, so long as it kept him from thinking of the purgatory that awaited him while he saved up the money to buy that glove.

Some days, it felt like he was never going to get off this rock.

* * *

At the same time that the golden furred mechanic gave into his resignation, in a very different environment, an invisible creature sat in wait. He was nervous and tense, but also excited and gleeful. Both emotions were overflowing from his small, impalpable form as the fervor filled him with a liveliness that could not be contained in one still object. Of course, such a neurotic energy did not come to a creature without good reason, and that reason was the only thing restraining the creature: a glowing light contained between his tiny palms, pulsating in a steady, calm beat; a contrast to its creator.

The tiny blue one sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, clutching his unborn son closer. This was no time to be getting antsy, even if this was one of- no, _the_ most important event of his existence. Even if the fate of an entire galaxy rested on the metaphorical shoulders of the year old soul. After all, this had to be timed just perfectly, or the robot created would simply be a mindless servant for Drek. Or worse, a willing servant for Drek, even with a conscience. He had not panicked when the time stream itself began to collapse and he will not panic now!

In front of the invisible creature, a production line produced robot after robot, all mindless security droids that were no good for his son. No, it _had_ to be that one robot. The one built specifically to stop Drek. He watched with slight disinterest as the newly constructed droids fell off the production line and into a distribution pipe, which warped each newly constructed bot to their destination, wherever that may be.

Then the error symbol came up upon the screen parallel to the assembly line, and he tensed, readying himself with the soul pulsing rapidly in his hands, desperate to reach its new body. The blue-bodied creature timed his shot, watching, waiting... then flung the orb forward with great strength, propelling it into the darkness behind the assembly line, depleting himself of his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Seconds later, a small metal thing came bouncing off the assembly lines, and it was only after it landed that the unnerved father was able to recognize it as his son. Or rather, the body he had chosen for his son. A small robot, not unlike the giant guard bots he'd seen earlier, but with a much more malleable frame. Perfect for upgrades and whatnot. A tiny red antenna for intercommunication with other computerized devices -it's just a fact that signals can be sent and received easier if one had an antenna. But the thing he found himself admiring most were the bright green eyes that retained the subtle glow of the orb he had brought here in the first place. They were expressive, showing clear confusion as his balance servos calibrated to accommodate the small form. The bright green lights were a clear sign that the soul had taken to the body with no complications.

With a smile, the blue one watched his newborn totter to an infobot on the other side of the room, slowly becoming more confident on his new legs. He did not remember the Great Clock, or anything before this moment, but he would know, soon enough, his destiny. In the meanwhile, he shifted his attention, temporarily, to the green screen on the wall, the only indication of the supercomputer that created the shell his son currently inhabited. She was his mother now, he realized. She had just as much a claim to his son as he did. He smiled at the courageous, rebellious AI; the manufacturer of robot guards, the prisoner of this outpost, and now the mother of a hero. The invisible one would always be indebted to her.

A startling noise drew his attention back to his son, who was cringing away in fright from his larger brethren. Emotionless, it gazed down with dull blue optics which only seemed to highlight the unique bright green eyes of his son. The infobot was no where to be seen; hopefully, his son had taken it as proof of Drek's horrible activities. The events afterwords seemed to happen in a split second; his son dove between the robot's legs, diving into an emergency escape tunnel and reaching the emergency ships stashed away in preparation for aerial assault. But thanks to an up-to-date Robotic Ignition System, courtesy of the boy's mother, the ship activated for him with no trouble, and in a flash he was off, narrowly dodging the stray shots of the following robot as it and a nearby guard hopped into the other two jets and flew after his son, traveling on a steady route.

The invisible blue creature had done all he could. The rest was up to his son, XJ-0641.

* * *

A funny sound assaulting his ears was what brought Ratchet's attention away from his ship, some time later. It was sharp, a whistling in the dead silence of the hot plateau sun, and seemed to come from somewhere above him. At first, Ratchet's ears stretched upward in a panic as the thought came to him that whatever was making that noise just _might _be heading for him. But then he turned around to get a good look and found the speeding object soaring downward at a pace of great speed, surrounded by a soft red glow. It sped past Ratchet's little garage -thankfully not damaging anything- and landed somewhere just off of Kyzil City, with a loud crash that made Ratchet wince, even at the distance he was at.

Giving Ribbon a gentle pat, Ratchet strolled around her to stare in the direction the falling thing had gone down at. Judging from its size, and the fact that it hadn't burned up in Veldin's atmosphere, Ratchet could say quite confidently that it was a ship. A ship meant a driver. And a driver, considering the loud rumble that had occurred when that thing hit the earthy rock of Kyzil Plateau, probably meant a corpse.

Probably.

Ratchet attempted to turn back to his ship, but the damage was already done. His curiosity was peeked, and in the end he gave a frustrated sigh and placed the tool he was working with aside, instead grabbing his most prized possession: the Omniwrench. Veldin, after all, could be a dangerous planet, no matter where you lived; Kyzil Plateau was fairly secure as far as wildlife and people went, but it was better safe than sorry.

Finding the ship was as easy as following the trail of smoke it had left behind. It was still billowing out from beyond the jagged cliff side, not too far from the intersection Ratchet commonly took to get to Kyzil City. Faintly, he wondered if anyone else was smart enough to realize exactly what had just occurred. Surely nobody could have missed that. Then again, the people of Kyzil had a habit of surprising him in the most unpleasant ways...

Shaking that thought out of his head, Ratchet crept along the rock wall cautiously, minding the large gaps that led all the way down to the surface of the planet. With all the grace one must expect from a feline, the Lombax bound across several gaps, keeping his wrench on hand in case he ran into any unsightly visitors. As the smoke grew closer, he began to tense, wondering why anything would have been flying close enough to Veldin to crash. The planet didn't get many tourists (you know, because of little things like a deficiency in daffodils and lack of water) and he couldn't see anything other than an illegal trader using a ship of the size that the crashed one had been. And if he was still alive... well, Ratchet was glad he brought his wrench.

The impact site was a sizable crater, digging several cubits into the plateau over a radius slightly larger than the inside of Ratchet's garage. The center was the deepest, but there was no ship there; it had broken apart on impact, bits and pieces of it littered throughout the impact site. Instead, a single bit of metal occupied the innermost point of the large circle. At first glance the mechanic thought it might be a piece of the engine, but something didn't seem right about that assumption and, as he got close, he realized why; it was not a fragment of a ship -or rather, what was formerly a ship- but a small robot, presumably the driver. His head and appendages were tucked into his body in a way that reminded Ratchet of a tortoise. Gingerly, he tread into the hole, keeping his guard up in case the deactivated robot were to suddenly spring to life. One step closer, two... and it didn't revive itself, even as Ratchet stood in front of it with a critical expression. With the delicate hands of a mechanic, he scooped up the little bot and brought it up to his face to examine it closer.

Burns and scrapes covered the metallic shell. It's eyes were closed tight. Looking at it like this, the metal creation actually looked almost like a child's toy with its limpness and size. But a mechanic's eyes could see past what a common man's would miss, and Ratchet quickly identified the highly adaptable circuitry. He couldn't be sure without a fuller, more intrusive examination, but the robot he was cradling was pretty advanced...

Another loud sound caught the Lombax's perked ears. Unlike the shrill whistling that had brought his attention to this ship, however, this sound he had heard far too many times in the past year. A loud, wailing siren that screeched the arrival of those who were supposed to distribute justice. It was a sound that always made Ratchet tense, even if he they had only come for him twice. Quickly shoving the small 'bot under his arm, he ducked under the nearby brush, ignoring the tickle along his stomach as he watched the Kyzil Defense Specialists -most people called them police, but they preferred the special name- canvas over the area and begin to survey the crash.

The people of Kyzil had a habit of surprising Ratchet in the most unpleasant ways.

"Well," He whispered to the unconscious robot tucked under his arm, "That happened. C'mon, let's get out of here before we get caught," Keeping his eyes ahead of him, Ratchet sidled out of the brush slowly, walking backwards and away from the impact site. Only when he was certain none of the officers had seen him did he give into his adrenaline and run all the way to his garage, keeping a tight hold on the robot. He gasped for breath, running past Ribbon and collapsing onto the plateau. The robot fell out of his loosening grasp, landing on his back. Which seemed like a good idea, so Ratchet too fell belly-up onto the warm, smooth rock as he panted heavily. A semi-delirious chuckle escaped him as the reality of his situation caught up with him. Once they realized Ratchet had tampered with the scene, they'd certainly come for the robot. He didn't know how long it would take, or even if they would ever figure it out. But it certainly would make for a very different week, that was for sure. Hey, he'd wanted something different, didn't he?

Rolling onto his side, Ratchet inspected the small robot. It wasn't too badly damaged, for surviving a crash. He should be up and about in roughly a day or so.

"Well, little dude," He breathed, "Looks like you'll be staying here for a little while," There was a flash of an amused grin on his face, but it was gone as soon as it came, "I'm talking to a deactivated robot. Damn, I must be getting desperate," A sour smile came to him, "Then again, he's already smarter than anyone else on this pathetic excuse for a planet. Alright then, pal," He put on a mock-stern face, "You can stay, but only for a little while, 'kay?"

The robot gave no response.

* * *

_Damage Report: 94.43281% Functionality_

_Initializing reboot..._

The first thing he saw when he woke up was... DATA UNAVAILABLE.

What was that creature? It had long pointed ears, and a tail. Species with these traits include: Cazar. Markazian. Lombax. Wait, scratch Markazian. The creature in front of him was covered in fur, while Markazians were typically at least 75% bald. So it had to be Lombax or Cazar. If he could get a look at the muzzle, he could identify the creature...

Well, at least he was certain it was not a Blargian. He briefly designated this creature in his memory banks as 'Creature'.

Taking a few cautious steps towards the Creature, he was able to see beyond it. The ship, at first glance, was nothing spectacular. A scan was initialized, the red light on the antenna brightening just the slightest bit as he surveyed the interior of the ship. The results, if he had to put a word to them, were... surprising. It was, by no means, perfect. But it was _functional_. And that was saying a lot, considering that more than half of the parts were from different ships. And yes, they were compatible, but only barely. Each piece required heavy modification that would have taken hours to accomplish. Which meant either the Creature constructing the ship was some sort of genius or he had quite a lot of free time on his hands. Possibly both. More puzzling, his readings showed that the ship, despite it's somewhat wayward condition, was capable of flight. Yet scanners also indicated that the engine was dead cold. It had not been turned on in the past week or so. Why? Considering the Creature was so invested in the ship that it had not noticed the small robot creeping up behind him.

He took a glance at the ship. Then at it's mechanic. Then back at the ship. And then the little robot spoke his first words.

"Interesting."

Well, okay, _word_.

The Creature let out a loud yelp and fell backwards, knocking the box he had been standing on to reach the engine of the ship back. An odd inclination to smile fell upon the robot, but he quickly bit it back as he reminded himself of his duty, and the fate of all those people that he had to prevent. He had a duty to do, and such absurdity could be considered after he had completed his mission. Assuming he was not destroyed in the effort.

It was facing him now, the Creature, and further classification efforts could be made. It's muzzle was slightly canine-like in appearance, despite its feline build. The ears were longer than they had appeared from the back, extending back outwards some. These features were typical of the species referred to as Lombax. In response to his identification, the designation of the Creature was changed from "Creature" to "Lombax1".

Lombax1 blinked at him stupidly, as if he could not comprehend that there was a robot standing in front of him.

"You are quite handy with your wrench," He spoke again, using a conversation technique known as an 'icebreaker'.

It seemed to do the trick, because Lombax1 picked himself up and dusted himself off, still staring at the small robot as he talked, "You bet," He muttered, "I built that ship with it," He gestured to the ship, and the robot looked at it again, noting that, despite it's rickety appearance, the metal had been woven together in a manner that made it sturdier than it looked, "I, ah, didn't think you'd wake up for a while. A class-six nanohive isn't usually known for its speed..."

The mechanic had made an assumption on his hardware based on his size. There was the sudden desire to glare at Lombax1, but he refrained from doing so. Glaring was childish, and at least it proved he had not been poking around at the robot's systems while he was out, "That would be because I do not have a class-six nanohive. Mine is a class-two."

"Huh," Lombax1 looked pretty impressed at that, "Well, then, whoever made you must really care then," There was a sudden drop in his pitch at those last words, as if he was dissatisfied with the fact that somebody cared for the person he was talking to. The robot paid no mind to his tone, instead thinking over his words, back to the one who created him. Yes, she cared. And she had a mission for him. He would not fail her.

"Sir," He addressed formally, "I am looking for somebody capable of saving the galaxy. There is imminent danger to the entirety of the solar system, and eventually the rest of Solana."

He received a pair of squinted eyes staring at him in return for his comment, "Sounds serious," He eventually responded, "You thought about reporting this to the galactic authorities?"

A wave of frantic thought came over him. Without his consent, the word, "NO!" was blurted out of his vocal box, much to the bemusement of the Lombax he was speaking to. He gave the robot a blank stare, and the the automaton backtracked cautiously, "I cannot bring this to the attention of the galactic authorities. In fact, I must keep this as far away from any official activity as I can."

"Probably for the best," The organic in front of him agreed readily, to his surprise, "The police around here can barely do anything right. Why should the Galactic Rangers be any different?"

That was not quite what he had been thinking when he informed Lombax1 of his desire to stay away from anything legal. But it worked to his convenience, so he let it go, "Instead, I wish to find somebody that can be defined as a 'hero'. Somebody who fights for justice and protects the innocent. Somebody who..." He hesitated, then continued before Lombax1 could get suspicious, "Who would do the right thing when pressed."

"What about him?" Lombax1 pointed behind him. Taking a second to orient himself, the robot followed the trail of the finger to a poster plastered haphazardly to a wall. The man portrayed in the picture was tall, muscular, wearing tights... the robot's mind immediately accepted the image as the ideal hero. Just what he needed to save the galaxy.

"He is exactly what I am looking for," The small 'bot turned to face Lombax1, "Do you know who he is? Do you know where I can find him?" The words suddenly came out quicker, without the robot quite realizing it.

"That's Captain Qwark," The designation of the hero was assigned to 'Captain Qwark', "Um, he's on the radio every week, but other than that, no," A pointed frown was given to the robot, "But what's all this 'saving the galaxy' stuff about, anyway? Must be pretty important if you need Captain Qwark's help..."

Lombax1 seemed to be musing aloud. The robot blinked, then remotely activated the infobot he had stored within his chest cavity. For this exact purpose, of course, "This will explain everything."

The eyes of the mechanic were completely captivated by the infobot. The robot himself did not watch -he had already seen the infobot's message, and even without it he knew what he had to do. It was written into his very programming, after all. Stop Drek. That was the brief version. The longer one was a lengthy message explaining some of his own circuitry, as well as reaffirming his purpose. It had ended with the simple message of: Please be careful. For a second he wondered if the one who recorded the message had seen him get shot down. He realized, briefly, that he did not want such a thing to have happened. His inability to dodge the shots of his pursuers would have proved his ineptitude at saving the galaxy. But there was something more than that... he could not explain it. All he knew was that he could not fail her.

Upon the screen beside him was Executive Chairmen Drek himself, presenting to the Novalians his not-so-peaceful proposal of taking a large chunk of their world and adapting it into part of a new planet for his own people. The Blargian home world was a polluted mess of green skies, black water and large amounts of radiation. It was uninhabitable. But that did not excuse the pilfering and destruction of several other planets in this galaxy! It was one race, several billion people, committing genocide against trillions upon trillions more for their own survival when they could, in fact, just move. But they were a strange bunch, the Blargians. He had a little information on them and all of it labeled them as self-indulgent terrorists. They were barely a people.

And what they were planning was... there was a word for it, he was sure of it!

"That's... disgusting!"

Disgusting. Repugnance caused by something revolting. Yes, there was a word to describe the Blargians.

The screen went blank, and the infobot was returned to the safety of the robot's chest cavity. It would be stored there indefinitely.

"The people on those planets... they're... hosed!" The robot gave an odd look to the organic, who smiled in response. The smile was not happy though. It seemed... forced, almost. He could not explain it, "I'm sorry, pal, but Captain Qwark moves all over the place. Wish I could help, but..." He shrugged, "Well, anyway, good luck finding Captain Qwark!"

With a frown, the robot turned to look at the ship. It was capable of flight... and if Captain Qwark was not immediately available, then he would have to start this quest all on his own. And that... would be a disaster, as proven by his unintended pit stop. Besides, he did not even have a way off this planet... except for the ship Lombax1 was building. But the probability of securing it was low. It was unlikely that Lombax1 would just loan him a ship so carefully built from scratch. And if a physical confrontation were to occur, he did not stand a chance. Lombax1 was stronger, more agile and at least had some intelligence, if he could build a ship from scratch.

But he did just say he wished he could help...

Would Lombax1 agree to help him? All he needed was a ride...

"Actually..." He spoke finally, to the Lombax's apparent surprise, "If you could give me a lift to the coordinates contained in this infobot, I might be able to gather more information on the Chairman's plans," And anything more he could learn about Drek's plans, apart from this tiny outline, would be most beneficial.

There was hesitation on Lombax1's part, which did not bode well... "Look, I'm sorry but..." He started with a scratch of his head, to the robot's resignation. He immediately started a search as to where else to find a ship on Veldin. Lombax1 continued speaking, "I can't. I'm missing a crucial component of the ship."

The search was paused. Missing? But his own scans had told him the vessel was space worthy. What could have been missing? Another scan was initiated, giving him the same result. When he looked into specifics, he found that the Navigation Computer was a Gadgetron Navcomp version 7.3. And Gadgetron Navcomps required a Robotic Ignition System. The scan was complete at time 2.854 seconds, rounded to the nearest thousandth, "The Robotic Ignition System."

"Hey," He received a look that suggested the Lombax was scanning him, even though that was impossible, "How'd you know that?"

"I, sir," He responded, attempting to keep his voice neutral... for some reason, his tone kept trying to become higher pitched, and he constantly had to beat that down, "happen to be equipped with the latest in Robotic Ignition Systems. My programming allows me to remotely activate and program any navigation computer you could happen to run across; even those that are not Gadgetron," There it was, the yearning to smile again. It was restrained for the moment.

Lombax1's ears perked slightly as he caught onto what the robot was suggesting, "So, I take you to this... wherever it is, and you fix the navigation system?"

"That is what I am proposing," The robot responded, allowing the smile his system kept attempting to place on his face to shine through. For negotiation purposes, of course. But neither had long to muse on the decision. A loud whistling alerted him to the presence of two more ships and, upon seeing them, his optics widened without consent. With great urgency, he grasped Lombax1's hand and pulled him behind the ship, ignoring the yelp of protest. He did not, however, ignore the question on what was going on, "Those are the ships that shot me down," He explained, watching as the two spacecrafts touched down in Kyzil, "If they find me here, they will likely destroy this entire settlement. We must make haste."

A nod confirmed the answer to all his questions, "Yeah, alright. Let's get moving," The hatch on the shuttle opened, and the both of them piled in. The robot felt the need to glare again when the Lombax easily climbed into the ship, while he required physical aid to reach the cockpit. The Lombax placed himself at the pilot's wheel, and the robot, next to him, booted up the Navigation computer and input the coordinates, showing a three-dimensional map on the holoscreen inside the ship. A route to the planet of Novalis was presented, giving easy to follow directions.

"Hang on," Lombax1 warned as they flew upwards, "I've never actually done this before."

A sudden wave of paralysis came over the robot, "You mean... you do not know how to fly?"

"Don't worry," The Lombax gave him a grin, which only decreased his ability to move, "I'm a fast learner. And we'll be in space! We can't crash into anything in space."

Except for asteroids, satellites, other ships, stars and planets. But the robot restrained himself from listing these, instead watching the Lombax's hands carefully, "Grip each handle firmly with each hand," He found himself lecturing, even though he had not intended to speak at all, "Ease forward, do not push it. We are going to have to ascend at a seventy degree angle and at a speed of at least 17,500 miles per hour, preferably slightly faster. This will give us the smoothest planetary exit-"

"Thanks for the lesson, mom," Lombax1 spat at him, with a flat tone, "but I think I can handle leaving the atmosphere. Sheesh, ya think I didn't do my homework?" Something about the words made him hold his tongue -metaphorically, of course, seeing as he did not have a tongue- for the entire planetary exit. Lombax1 managed to break free of Veldin with no trouble, and did not seem to be that bad of a pilot, considering it was his first time. Movement suddenly became possible again, and the first thing he did was look back to check for pursuers. But all that was behind him was the vastness of space between them and Veldin.

Veldin looked so much more like the ball of dust his memory banks told him it was from orbit; it was slightly unsettling. There were only a few bodies of natural liquid, none of them freshwater, and they were nowhere near where Lombax1 had been settled. He wondered, idly, how his new ally had lived.

"Wow, so _that's_ where I've been stuck this whole time!" The robot's attention was returned to Lombax1, who was also looking back at the planet. As in, looking back and NOT driving.

Please," He begged, his voice coming out quickly, "return your appendages to the steering mechanism, SIR."

Lombax1 gave a surprised sound, then returned to driving, giving that smile that was not a smile as he apologized (which meant that the smile was apologetic? Embarrassed?). He took a moment to check the ship's systems -which was always good in a homemade ship- and then turned his head at an angle that allowed him to both see where he was going and look at the robot at the same time, "By the way, you can stop calling me 'sir'. The name's Ratchet," The robot blinked, processing this information in a millisecond. Ratchet. A tool used to lock something in place. He was not quite sure how this fit the Lombax, but nonetheless changed the designation of 'Lombax1' to 'Ratchet'.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," He responded, then realized he had incidentally referred to Ratchet as sir again. Ratchet himself did not seem to mind the mistake. He rolled his eyes, but that was the only sign of disapproval.

"What about you?" Ratchet asked, "You got a name?"

There was a pause. He had not been programmed with a designation for himself. He felt... something, at that, but was not quite sure what it was. It was promptly ignored, as it was not relevant and caused his memory banks to protest in a manner that was not productive in the slightest. But he did still have a serial code. After all, he was a 'defect' from a robot factory. He could use that, "My serial number is B54296-"

"Oops!"

Ratchet must have slipped, because the entire ship was sent barreling to the side. The robot's side, in fact. He hit the side hard as Ratchet struggled to get the ship under control, and suddenly felt the urge to snap at the mechanic. The sound of him colliding with the side of the ship had been incredibly loud; Ratchet had winced at it, most likely a result of expanded hearing range caused by large ears. A primary systems check was initiated. Had he been damaged by the collision?…no. He had not hit the side of the ship _that_ hard, apparently. Luckily, Ratchet decided to remember how to reorient the ship in that moment, and the robot maneuvered back into his seat, this time following through with his urge to glare at the Lombax.

A smile that was not quite a smile (he decided it meant 'embarrassment') was given as Ratchet spoke again, "Ah, how about I just call you 'Clank' for short?"

...Clank?

Clank. A sharp sound created when a metal object hits another metal object. It was, generally, not considered a pleasant sound, but the word itself had a nice ring to it.

Self-designation assigned as 'Clank'.

The newly dubbed Clank blinked as, without meaning to, he set his designation to 'Clank'. He tasted the word in his mouth, repeating it once, then decided it was not so bad. There were worse names out there, like Percival. And even if it was a split second thing, Ratchet had been nice enough to come up with it for him. Before he could tell Ratchet that he approved of the designation, the Lombax shouted, "Hang on!" To him, and he clutched at the closest surface available. Because apparently being able to successfully build a ship out of scrap metal does not necessarily mean that one can _drive_ it.

* * *

"...this could pose a problem."

Chairman Drek murmured to himself as he watched a ship leave Veldin's atmosphere. Scanners had immediately picked up on the signature of the small robot that his guards on Quartu had reported left the planet with a stolen copy of his plans. The only copy of his plans that did not belong to somebody he could trust to keep it secret. He was surprised at the resourcefulness of the defect. In almost an hour he had recovered, at least mostly, and had secured another ride with some organic. No, not just _some_ organic. A Lombax. One of the most resourceful, intelligent creatures in the universe. If he believed in such things as fate or gods, he would have sworn he was at the end of their wrath.

He heard footsteps behind him as his newly acquired ally approached. He had sent the information to said ally with the press of a button and had personally called him up. The Blargian's eyes narrowed, cyan trailing the ship as it left the camera's view. He only had three words for his ally.

"Dispose of them."

And as his companion left to do just that, he immediately sent a team of engineers to Quartu. One defective robot attempting to stop him was enough. He did not need such a glitch happening again.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: This chapter was originally called "Unlikely Alliance: Veldin". It was just a template name I could use until the chapter was finished and I could come up with a more appropriate title. As for the contents... eh, I dunno. I made up a lotta sciency sounding stuff. So that's awesome and a half. Like the game itself, the story and character development will pick up in later chapters. My main goal is to justify the actions of the characters within the personalities I perceive them having. So tell me how I do on that, okay? But not now. Now I'm just getting warmed up.

What did I do good on?: Clank's section. It was fun for me, and I think I get Clank better than I get Ratchet. Wait... was this the first time I've written for Clank?  
What did I fail on?: Hooray for fake sciency stuff!

Random Question for Reviewers: What do you think of the in-game Helpdesk? I, personally, don't care for it... that's all. What, did you expect something funny? Go find your humor elsewhere.


	3. Novalis: Loss

If you had ever believed, even for a microsecond, that peace negotiations did not involve torture, kidnapping or bulky robots dragging you into board rooms by your broken heels, then you have never attended a peace conference with a Blargian. The Elder Councilman of Novalis knew that Blargians were hostile, even in their most charitable of moments, but he had been desperate to end the incessant attack on his people. Planetary communications had been cut first; nothing that could broadcast off planet seemed to work anymore. Following shortly were automatic planetary defenses, followed once again by any automatic weaponry within any major city. And then they were bombarded. All over the planet, Blargian troopers and robots rained down without mercy, flooding through the green landscape of Novalis and destroying anything in their path, be it plant or person or building. In a short span of three cycles, the Novalian Army was all but defeated.

Chairman Drek himself had called to offer peace negotiations, which greatly surprised the oldest member of the Novalian Council. He had accepted the invitation without further consideration, and was now suffering the consequences. His wrists were raw from restraints that he no longer bothered to struggle against. Dark red liquid had soaked his once proud uniform; now it was stained with the memory of his horrible experience. The man in the chair himself was only half conscious, lost in a land between painful reality and blissful dreaming. One was too extreme for him to fully reach the other, but he had long since forgotten which of them had inducted him so deeply he could no longer access it's counterpart. Not that it mattered, because he was roughly pulled to one side -reality- by a muscular robot, snarling at him that he had a meeting with the Chairman, and he had five minutes to get himself looking presentable. The Elder used the time wisely, turning his shirt backwards to hide the stains behind his already dark cape and cleaning his skin as much as he could.

It seemed like eons later that the Elder entered what appeared to be the bridge, cringing in fear. The Blargian leader had told him of an 'offer' he couldn't refuse. When the words had been said, the Elder had naturally assumed it had been a good offer. He had been oh so wrong, and now his people were paying the consequences. For every drop of blood that had oozed out of his body in the past two days, hundreds of people were dying on his home world. Of course, even after his stay on Drek's flagship, he was fully prepared to defend his home to the death, no matter the consequences.

No matter what he had to say or sacrifice.

The Chairman appeared to have been waiting for them. His back was turned to them, arms folded behind his back. The man was Blargian, if an unusual one; he had slick, greasy black hair in a short tail behind his head and a suit the color of fresh mud. He was short as well, and kind of stocky. A vast contrast in appearance to the other Blargians he had seen, all tall, some lanky and some muscular, but with the same pink, wrinkly flesh that spawned numerous meaty warts. He turned around dramatically short after they entered -in truth, that was probably the only reason he had been facing away from the door- and smiled in cruel delight.

"Why, Mister Councilman," The shorter of the two men greeted, blank cyan pupils gazing at him with dark intent. Drek smiled unpleasantly, "It's so good to see you. I take it you have reconsidered my offer concerning the relocation of your capital city during your stay in our guest rooms?" The smile didn't so much as waver in the slightest as he spoke.

Unwilling to go down without a fight, the councilman snapped back, "You mean your torture chambers!"

The cyan ovals widened in mock-surprise, "Torture chambers? Why, I have never heard of something so ludicrous on MY dreadnaught!" The smile then returned, as piercing as it ever was, "Ah, everyone is such a critic! Just because I invite you aboard does not mean you get a five-star hotel, Councilman. Now," Drek's eyes narrowed, scanning the Elder's face, "about my proposal..."

"Forget it!" The Elder Councilman spat, defiance clear on his face, "fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; shame on me!" He waved his hand in a clear horizontal cutting motion, "I will not stand by idly and let you destroy our planet!"

The calculating blue eyes narrowed further and the spiteful, unrelenting grin widened, "Don't you mean your planet, Elder Councilman? Or should I say, Acting Premier of Novalis?" Beyond neutral opaque frames, a mixture of surprise and horror blended in with the bold black. The change did not go unnoticed by the Chairman, "You mean you don't know? It was horrific; the entire Council of Novalis, killed in a single, well-placed explosion. It was their fault, really. They shouldn't have met at the same place everyday," The cyan glistened in demented pleasure, watching the full weight of his new position sag the Novalian's shoulders down, "Now, Premier, it's time to be reasonable. We gave you a chance to run. You refused, we punished you accordingly. Now, please, consider your people. Haven't they gone through enough? Just allow us this one tiny chunk of your planet, and-"

"NO."

The sheer force behind the word caught the Chairman off guard. The grin faded off his face in stages. First it faded to a smile. Then a thin line. Then a tightly curled frown as he glared at the man across from him. Confidence growing at the fact that Chairman Drek of all people had been stunned by his bold declaration, the new Novalian Premier continued on, purposely ignorant to the loathe oozing off of the Blargian Chairman.

"You'll never be able to get away with something like this! Once Novalis is gone, the Galactic Authorities are going to take notice and your little plan will come crumbling down around you! And even if they DON'T notice, Captain Qwark will! He'll save us all from your tyranny, you'll see!"

The Blargian Chairman's deranged glee returned and he flashed a smile at the former Councilman, eyes glinting with the childlike knowledge of a secret, "I'm sure he will."

"I wouldn't be smiling like that if I were you," Warned the new Premier, standing straight as he could, "Qwark could crush you like a toothpick without even trying! He'll put a stop to your plans and your empire without even breaking a sweat!" He followed up the declaration with a snarling spit aimed at the Chairman's head. It missed, of course, but it increased Drek's annoyance, "So long as someone like Qwark is out there to protect people like us, you'll have to pry this planet from our cold, dead hands!"

It looked like the Premier had more to say, but he was shushed by the rising of Chairman Drek's hand, "I'll admit; a few days ago, your self-righteous declarations were somewhat amusing, but now they are grating on my last nerve. Lieutenant," Seconds later, a large, cold hand fell upon the Novalian's shoulder, roughly pulling him back and over the head of the robotic Lieutenant, "This man is of no more use to me. He is to die stuck on his planet, just like the rest of his sniveling population of morons. But before you take him back," The Chairman's eyes glinted madly, "feel free to do whatever you please with him. Just make sure not to leave _too_ many marks..."

With that being said, the Premier was roughly pulled behind the lieutenant, dragged behind him by the cape. Between choking gasps, he screamed back to the Chairman; pleading for him to change his mind, begging him to stop his twisted ways. The Chairman completely ignored the screaming behind him, instead focusing on the planetary diagram below him, showing the progress of his new world. So far, only twenty percent. It would not be long, though, before his people had a new home. And then his REAL plans could begin...

* * *

"Hey, Clank?"

"Yes?"

"Remember how I told you I didn't need a lecture?"

"I have a computerized memory. I can recall, with perfect accuracy, everything I have ever heard... so yes, I do remember that."

"Uh, is it too late to change my mind?"

They were coming up on the planet fast. Much too fast. They had entered the planet's atmosphere at a steady speed of 1800 miles per hour. Which was all fine and dandy for the reentry, but Ratchet should have started slowing the ship the moment they broke through the stratosphere. As was, they were now heading straight for a precariously placed mountain at almost twice the recommended orbital drop speed. The newly dubbed Clank had assumed that Ratchet knew what he was doing. Evidently, he was incorrect. However, he was much calmer than Ratchet. The Lombax was struggling desperately to get his baby skyward again; to make her ascend so that they did not crash into that mountain. After what felt like hours of trying, Ribbon's nose turned upward slightly, causing Ratchet to smile-

BOOM!

-and then the ship crashed.

It was glorious in its horror; she collided with the mountain at a speed of 140 miles per hour. When her nose collided with the mountain, she seemed to realize her peril and sent exploding pieces of her engine chamber through the vulnerable glass visor, knocking both of her passengers into the back of the ship, where they were relatively shielded from the resulting explosion as the fuel ignited. The combined heat and force of the blast broke open the back of the reinforced vehicle and simultaneously knocked both Ratchet and Clank out of the vehicle before Ribbon was vaporized in a dazzling display of fire and sound. Metal shrapnel rained down; one last parting gift from a doomed vessel. It flew outward. Most of it ended up flying into mountains or out of sight, but that wasn't to say no metal shards reached our heroes. Ratchet grunted, shielding himself by curling up in midair. Most of the metal pieces of debris ended up buried in his arms and legs. One hit his helmet. Clank, below him, lucked out, being shielded by Ratchet's body. That wasn't to say he was unaffected by the crash, however. As he landed roughly on the soft, grassy ground, he only had a moment in time to process the situation and sit up before he was crushed under the off-weight of a small Lombax.

"Ugh..." The Lombax groaned, disoriented. The pieces of metal buried in his limbs stung, and his back was protesting the rough landing, but it was the mental pain that seemed to hurt most of all. She was gone. His baby was gone. Two years of hard work. Almost every bolt he had ever earned. Destroyed just as his hopes were bearing fruit. Slightly disoriented, Ratchet briefly compared her end to the end of his first friendship...

"Ratchet?" A voice, muffled, called to him, startling him. In his hazy state, it almost sounded just like... "Ratchet, could you please remove your weight from atop of me? This is quite uncomfortable..."

The haziness faded somewhat, and the voice registered as the robot who'd started his ship for him, "Oh, sorry," Rolling over, Ratchet got a look at the little robot, "You hurt?"

With a blink, Clank announced, "Running diagnostics," A second later, there was a subtle ding, "Damage Report: 90.6532% Functionality. The servos in my arms and legs are slightly weakened. Other than that, diagnostics concludes no lasting damage. I will be fully repaired in a few hours," Scanning over Ratchet, Clank's sensors picked up the bits of metal in the Lombax's arms and legs, "You, however, will need to secure some nanotech," There was a grimace from the Lombax's side. He'd never personally used the stuff before, but he'd heard... things... about it, "We will also need to find a way off of this planet. Perhaps one of the inhabitants has a ship we can borrow."

The two briefly surveyed the area. Novalis was ensnared in combat, Blargian soldiers quickly decimating Novalians with their more advanced weaponry. A particularly brave young soldier came at a heavily armored Blargian with a loud scream, and both robot and organic watched and winced (on Ratchet's part. Clank seemed unfazed by the brutality) as the armored Blargian casually mowed down the Novalian soldier with a single shot, effectively disintegrating them. It was instantaneous, and a shout of horror sounded from the boy as he faded slowly from existence, his feet disappearing in sparks that trailed up his body in seconds, causing his limbs to disappear beneath them.

With a grimace, Ratchet replied, "Yeah. If there are any left."

Frowning at that comment, Clank decided not to respond, instead looking backwards towards what appeared to be a cavern. Quickly, his scanners ran through it, briefly mapping the tunnel, "This is a storm sewer passage," He told Ratchet, who was still engrossed in the marvelous terror of the battlefield, "It leads directly into the capital city. If there is any hope of finding any civilians still on the planet, then it would be there."

At first, Ratchet didn't answer. He had caught sight of a small creature on the battlefield, trying to get back to its home. The thing scrambled from bush to bush, keeping out of sight and cleverly darting behind Blargians, as if it knew they would hurt it. But it had mistimed one of its runs, and a Blargian trooper caught sight of it. The tall pink warrior snarled in disgust and shot it without a second thought, chortling at its squeal of pain. Ratchet frowned at the image, then turned back to the waiting robot, "Okay, let's check it out."

* * *

About five steps into the cave, they ran into a problem.

Well, if you want to get technical about it, _Clank_ was the one who ran into a problem. Ratchet had no direct trouble, even if Clank's problem also affected him.

There was a plateau of rocks that lead to an alternate route. Clank theorized that it was a maintenance pathway, and that going through it would be more fruitful than going through the storm drain. Ratchet, whose feet were soaked due to lack of footwear, almost immediately took Clank up on that offer and started climbing the small plateau, Omniwrench ready for anything that might come at him. Behind him, Clank also climbed the artificial formation of rocks... but with less ease. He was half Ratchet's height -barely- and did not have the natural arch in his feet that made traversing rough terrain easy for organics. Three fingered hands were barely able to hang onto the slippery surface of the rock, and, try as he might, he simply could not get any proper footholds. There were a total of five unnatural steps, and by the Clank reached the third one, Ratchet's patience was worn thin. Having lived on Kyzil Plateau, a place saturated with slopes and cliffs, the short climb had been a breeze for the Lombax. But it was obvious that Clank wasn't doing nearly as well.

"Okay, this hurts to watch," The organic spoke, exaggerating a cringe when Clank lost his footing on the forth step and fell back down to the third. He slid down to join the robot, wincing for real as he unintentionally put more weight on his left leg, weaker than its partner due to injuries caused by the crash, than he had intended. Clank, lying on his back, did not seem to notice. He instead sat upright and blinked at the Lombax as Ratchet announced, "This isn't working. We're gonna need to find some other way."

He was met with a blank look, "And what other way is there, exactly?" He looked back at the entrance to the cavern, where one could still get a good view of the carnage in the fields below, "Every other entrance to the city would have been blocked. This route, while not ideal, is the only one available."

The Lombax changed tactics, "Look at that," He pointed ahead, to where pistons were moving up and down. Perhaps as a part of some sort of security mechanism, "We're gonna have to jump those to reach that path you were talking about. Do you really think you can do that?"

Quickly, the robot ran a simulation, frowning when it reported that he did not have the leg strength or dexterity to make it across, "No... I cannot," He confessed with a frown, "But what other choice is there? You could not possibly carry me the entire way. There are most likely more sections like this along the maintenance passage," He stood and sidled as close to the edge as he could, running a scan on the pistons. As he did so, Ratchet took special notice of the notch in his back.

"Hey, what's that in your back?" Inquired the Lombax, fairly tempted to simply examine it himself.

Clank turned his head partially to look down his back, then with a short, "Oh," of revelation, he turned fully to Ratchet and explained, "It is a bolt lock. It is to be used to carry items with similar locks on my back, such as small containers," The robot blinked as Ratchet knelled in front of him turned him around so that the mechanic could get a good look at the bolt lock. Ratchet was humming in consideration, pulling the robot this way and that as if it would somehow give him a better look. Again came the urge to glare, which Clank followed up on considering the lack of productivity in Ratchet's probing, "What, exactly, are you doing?"

"Just hold on a second..." Ratchet mumbled, then released the buckle on his harness. A quick examination revealed a similar, if not identical, bolt on the back of it. An idea pieced together, bit by bit; it was crazy, but you know what they say bout crazy plans... without any warning, he hurriedly plugged it into the socket on Clank's back, a satisfying _click_ signifying that it slid into place without complications. The results brought a light grin to Ratchet's face, "Perfect! I'll just carry you this way!"

"Are you certain about this?" Clank asked; he had been slightly shocked to feel the cold metal of the bolt harness on his back, but had to agree that it was a creative -if not mildly insane- idea. He wouldn't fall off unless one of them pushed against the other to make the two bolts slide apart. But on the other hand... "I may be too heavy for you to carry comfortably. Even assuming I am not, I will most certainly throw off your center of balance-"

"It's fine," Ratchet interrupted mid-rant, "I use this harness to carry my tools when I take jobs in Kyzil," At the mention of the city, he shuttered involuntarily. Briefly, he wondered if he had missed his appointment yet, or whether Doc Know-it-all would sent someone to look for him. Probably not, "It won't be a problem. C'mon, I'll show you," He pulled the leather part of the harness around him and clasped it back into place. Slowly, he stood, being mindful of Clank's foreign weight on his back, "Huh, you're actually a little lighter than my tools," Smirking, he raced to climb the plateau steps, slower than before, but still faster than Clank had been going. When he reached the areas where he needed to jump across, he took but a moment to assess the length before he took a few steps back, ran forward, and jumped onto the plateau. This one he raced up as he slowly got used to the foreign weight on his back and jumped onto the piston without much consideration of the distance. When the other one lowered to a length he could reach, he jumped onto it and into the maintenance passage. Smirking and panting slightly, he asked Clank, "So, how'd I do?"

From Ratchet's back, Clank hesitated in answering. Not quite because he was not impressed -oh no, he was more than impressed- but because looking backwards while moving as opposed to forwards had been rather disorienting. But he did have a good vantage point, even if it was a backwards one. And it was not so hard to simply turn his head and look ahead. So, he conceded, "You did fine. Now, what are the maintenance tunnels like?"

He could feel, rather than see, Ratchet shrug in response, "Eh. It's kinda just this single room so far. There's a stairway to the left though," There was a pause, "But why do Novalians have to make everything so big? I mean, the first step's bigger than I am!"

"I believe it is to keep unwanted intruders out of these tunnels," Clank responded, "Although it appears they need to update their security, considering how easy it was to get in, regardless of the inconvenience."

With a glance to a deactivated roof turret, Ratchet answered quietly, "I don't think that's their problem," and refused to respond when Clank asked what that meant. Instead, he continued up that short stairwell into the what appeared to be the primary central passageway. The room was circular, with a few deactivated security droids on standby near the wall. Clank, upon catching sight of them, performed quick diagnostic scans on them. The report showed that they possessed power, but were not receiving activation signals from the main security office. This probably had something to do with the Blargian invasion, he decided. Ratchet just looked from 'bot to 'bot, tensed to respond if any of them attacked. They did not, but it never hurt to be cautious.

The secondary central passageway was full of pistons and buzz saws. It took Clank only a minute of time to scan the room for any passageways. One was found, "I believe we must head upward to continue into the city. Do you have any ideas on how to do so?"

Ratchet, meanwhile, was staring ahead, "Yeah, I got an idea," He took a quick running jump over the small chasm, where water was flowing at high speeds. This must connect to other storm pipes in the city, Clank mused. There was another one, cleared just as easily, before another piston was found and boarded. It skyrocketed up at a speed unlike the others, sending Ratchet into the air, high above the catwalk Clank had seen. He landed on his feet, wincing and stumbling as pain shot up his legs, which was noticed by the little robot this time around. He frowned as the Lombax grasped the siding to balance himself, but before he could bring it up, Ratchet straightened out and began limping forth. This time, Clank let it go. There would probably be nanotech somewhere around here, anyways.

When they did get to the next room, they were surprised to find a Novalian huddled over the pipes, muttering and cursing to himself as he worked. He was typical Novalian; a paler blue than average, and slightly overweight, but otherwise pretty typical.

"Look," Ratchet snorted, covering his mouth to keep from chuckling. Clank blinked up at him, frowning, "Plumber's crack," It seemed immature, sure, but when would he get an opportunity to use that joke again?

The Novalian whipped around with surprising speed, "What did you just say?!" He snapped at the Lombax, waving his pipe wrench threateningly. Clank quickly assessed the probability of success in case of a fight. Ratchet just smiled like the polite little Lombax he most definitely was not and replied smoothly.

"I said... look, the plumber's back!"

There was no fight, to Clank's surprise. The Plumber just rolled his eyes at Ratchet's antics and spoke with the scolding tone of a grumpy grandfather, "Very funny, wise guy. You must be a hit with all the ladies with _those_ elegant lines," To which Ratchet shrugged indifferently, "So what exactly are you two doin' in a place like this, anywhos? Shouldn't you be, ya know, runnin' to the escape transports?"

The Lombax and robot exchanged a look. Ratchet, eventually, was the one to look up and ask, "What escape transports?"

"News flash, kid: The planet's under attack!" The plumber added to this answer by waving his arms in the air, exaggerating general panic, "Blargians everywhere! Giant robots exploding things! The richer folks are getting off the planet while they still can. Anyone who actually owns a space worthy vessel rented out space to the highest bidders and left eons ago."

Ratchet's eyebrows furrowed and he scoffed aloud, "Typical."

"I know, right?" The plumber answered, twirling his pipe wrench idly, "All those fancy doctors and scholarly types are getting off planet while us _regular _people have to wait for Captain Qwark to save us," He spat out the name as if it disgusted him. Clank understood disdain -to a degree- but did not understand the reasoning behind it. Why would one scorn their savior? "I'm stuck in this doomed city just 'cause I haven't got the socioeconomic prosperity."

The furrowed eyebrows raised, "Say what?"

"He does not have enough bolts," Clank translated. Ratchet nodded in understanding, turning back to the plumber with a shrug.

"Wish I could help, man," His voice was surprisingly sympathetic to Clank; to Ratchet, the sympathy was no surprise. He understood what it was like to be stuck in a doomed place, "but I only have a few hundred bolts-"

"That'll work!" The older Novalian stated in a hurry, pulling something out of his back pocket, "I'll trade you this infobot for 'em. Shows two weirdos ditchin' their ship. Got coordinates, too, I think," To this, the Plumber shrugged, "I'll trade it for as many bolts as you got!"

There was a moment of silence as Ratchet assessed the situation. On one hand, he'd be giving up his hard earned money for something that could end up being totally worthless. On the other hand, he found himself genuinely wanting to help the old man, and buying the infobot allowed him to do so without giving him a handout, something he'd always loathed. Then there was him and Clank to think about, too. If they gave their money to this old man, it might cost them their way off this planet. He thought it through, frustrated, before deciding ultimately to fork over the money; if push came to shove, he could just rig up something. Clank blinked in surprise as the bolts fell into the hands of the old man. Ratchet was most certainly not the type to be wasteful or charitable, so why give his hard-earned money away so easily?

"Thanks, kid," The Plumber nodded, handing off the infobot.

It was in surprisingly good condition, all things considered. In fact, it looked to be in too good a condition. Clank immediately became skeptical as to the acquisition of this infobot, and asked about it. To which the old Novalian scolded him with a joking tone about minding his manners, and the poor robot, not entirely understanding sarcasm, hastily apologized. All of this was amusing to the Lombax spectator, who chuckled half-heartedly at the other two inhabitants of the room. The unexpected sound caused Clank to look up at him in slight alarm.

"Sir," He asked hastily, "Do you happen to know where we can find some nanotech?"

Ratchet groaned, allowing himself to fall back against a wall, "I told you, I'm fine."

The pitying sound of tsks resonated from the furred mouth of the Plumber, "Shouldn't ignore your health, kid. That's how you get to be a fat old gasbag like me. Here," He fished around in his back pocket, eventually coming up with a small blue orb, "Gotta carry this 'round in case of emergencies. You probably need it more than I do, though," When Ratchet failed to approach him, the Plumber shrugged and handed the small orb off to Clank, "Well boys, it's been nice knowin' ya. Here's to hopin' we never meet again," A sparkle came to his eyes as he stated this; the childlike knowledge of a secret.

And with that, he turned around, walked away calmly, and proceeded to jump into the sewer pipe and slide down it as though it were a water ride. Both organic and robot watched in wonder and slight disbelief. Ratchet even asked aloud if that really just happened.

When he looked to Clank for an answer, all he saw was the glowing orb held out and getting closer, meant to be absorbed. Yelping (something he would later be embarrassed over), he tripped over his own feet in his desperate scramble to get away from the robot, "Really, Clank, I'm fine! No need for the powerful, tiny, painful little robots violating my bloodstream."

For a moment, at least, Clank paused, "That is why you are attempting to avoid this so hard? Ratchet, nanotech is not painful. That is nothing more than an old myth from when it was still new," He hesitated yet again, "Actually, it _is_ still relatively new, so it is no surprise that such a rumor is still around, but I guarantee to you that there is no pain involved."

"You promise?" Ratchet asked, and immediately regretted the words. They expressed weakness, and dammit, he was not weak! Clank surveyed him with a critical eye, and, once he was certain of Ratchet's sincerity, softened his expression and nodded his consent. Slowly, hesitantly, Ratchet reached out to take the blue glowing orb. Soon as he made contact, it seeped into his skin, scanners detecting the wounds and moving to them at a speed that made Ratchet gasp. The shrapnel melted into his blood, and the cuts they left were repaired almost instantaneously. It was warm, but not hot, and the sensation left him gasping for air, laughing lightly with a hint of madness, "It tickles," He whispered breathlessly.

Clank frowned at him, unsatisfied. His internal scanners did not say there was any more damage within the body of the organic, but he found himself unwilling to believe that. Quickly, his optics darted around, scanner set to locate the energy signature of nanotech. Ratchet's own eyes were watching him search and when he asked what Clank was doing, the robot replied truthfully.

"..." Blink, "Clank, I really am okay this time. That little bit of nanotech patched me right up," At the scrutinizing glance he received, Ratchet held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "I mean it! Honest!"

"Then explain to me why you are still coughing," The robot's tone was neutral as he demanded this.

"...Coughing...?"

The 'bot nodded eagerly, "You keep expelling air rapidly out of your system with a loud sound. That is the definition of 'coughing'."

It took a few moments for Ratchet's brain to catch up with Clank's line of thinking and when it did, he broke down into a long fit of laughter that made him clutch at his stomach. Clank watched with alarm, unsure of what to do as the organic seized his stomach in his arms, clutching it tightly as he rapidly 'coughed'. It took a moment for Ratchet to calm himself, which occurred mostly because his throat was becoming sore. He hadn't burst into laughter like that in a long while, and he had to admit it felt... good. Better than he had felt since... since he was seven.

"I'm not coughing," He explained breathlessly as Clank tried to check him over, sure there was a problem his scanners were missing, "I'm laughing."

There was a pause; Ratchet still having a silly grin from his laughing fit while Clank tried to process his words. Laughing. The process of expressing mirth or amusement a loud burst of sound caused by rapid expulsion of air. After comparing this definition to Ratchet's previous actions, laughter seemed to make more sense than coughing. But it still puzzled him, "So... my belief that you may be dying or critically injured is amusing to you?"

Having succeeded in calming himself down, Ratchet turned to reply, "No, it's not like that. It's just... how badly you misinterpreted the situation. I was never in any danger of dying," He made a mental note to find out, later, why Clank seemed to care so much. Perhaps it was because he was the only person the robot knew-?

"Well," The robot responded, somewhat sour, "My scanners report that you are at one hundred percent functionality. Since there are no more injuries for either of us to worry about, perhaps we should take a look at that infobot you retrieved," It seemed to have nothing to do with Qwark or Drek, but perhaps there was still something useful on it. Ratchet nodded, and wordlessly he set the automatic playback on the infobot. The clip began rolling...

* * *

"_Mayday! Mayday! This is the solarship Radical! We appear to be under attack from the planet's surface!"_

"_Relax, Skid. Looks like some sort of fireworks display... probably in your honor."_

"_Whoa! That one was close... augh!"_

_BOOM!_

"_Pipe down! I can't concentrate!"_

"_We've been hit!"_

"_Ah... an unexpected detour. When we land I'll see if I can scare up an expedition for you."_

"_If we live that long!"_

_BOOM!_

"_Kid, let's am-scray!"_

_Eject! Eject-!"_

_BOOM!_

* * *

Ratchet scowled. Of course the idiot on the left was forced to abandon his ship. He had been sending unimportant business messages from his own infobot even as the one on the right thought to send out a distress signal. The man was _just_ the right amount of smug and ignorant to make his blood boil. Disregarding this for the moment, he then focused his attention on the Rilgarian on the right. It took a second to identify him but he was sure... under those goggles...

"Skid McMarxx?"

"You know this man?" Clank asked, genuinely curious.

The Lombax snorted, crossing his arms. Not in this lifetime, "Nah, the guy's a big time hoverboarder. He and his publicists and pretty much everyone else go on about how 'cool' and 'hip' he is," Ratchet shook his head, "Guy's a total poser, though. You can tell on HV that his stunts are faked and even here – no pro hoverboarder would react like that. They might panic a bit, but their reaction time would be better than that."

"Still," Clank stroked his chin plate in thought... and then stopped. Why would stroking his face help anything? "He is a part of celebrity culture, which means he might know Captain Qwark. Going to see what happened to them at some point would be a good idea."

"Yeah, okay," Ratchet had stopped paying attention; instead, his attention became directed at the sewer pipe that Plumber had disappeared through. It was probably the storm sewer Clank had told him about earlier, which meant it would lead all the way back to the mouth of the cave, "What's our probability of finding a ride in the city?"

Wondering where this was going, the robot did a quick scan of the ruined city outside the window. Any people who were still on the planet were huddled together: children crying, people scrambling to connect families and scrounge for food... blinking, he looked away before he forgot why he was here. These people's lives would be better once he stopped Drek, "Slightly less than fourteen percent."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Ratchet's ears drooped, which drew Clank's attention immediately. There was... a look on his face, a complete contrast to the laughter that had engulfed him barely minutes ago, "I don't think we're gonna be able to borrow a ship. If we're gonna get out of here, there's only one way," His eyes drifted towards the wall where both of them knew a massive battle for control was being waged. Clank's eyes widened in response, himself cringing back. He could not possibly be suggesting- but they were unequipped to- how could they-?

Clank stopped that train of thought. He would have to fight the Blarg sometime. It was a part of his mission, after all. He could not keep running away like this. With a tone of resignation, he addressed Ratchet, "Very well. Are we going back through the maintenance passage?"

Tilting his head to one side, as if inspecting the room, Ratchet replied after a brief hesitation, "Nah. We'll take the Plumber's route," And before Clank could ask what that meant, Ratchet jumped into the storm drainage and rode down it with a quick exclamation of excitement. Clank blinked, then sighed, giving into his fate for the second time that day. He would never catch up with the Lombax otherwise, and he was beginning to suspect his companion might have been insane. But he was helpful; Clank could not have gotten this far without him. As a matter of fact, he would not have his name without Ratchet. Already, he owed the Lombax so much. Once he finished off Drek, he would make sure some reparations were sent the Lombax's way for all he gave. The destroyed ship, especially, came to mind.

With new determination, Clank jumped into the sewer drain, forgetting about the current until he was already swept up under the raging torment of aquatic might.

* * *

By the time they'd returned to the battlefield, it was almost empty. The fields, according to Clank's memory banks, had once been luscious, covered in greenery from one end to the other. Now the forestry was gone, and it looked almost like a barren, grassy field. Theoretically, the greenery had been removed for the sake of the new Blargian planet, which was why so much of the battlefield remained in tact. Regardless, they had to get across it, and just because most of the Blargians were gone did not mean they were all gone...

...or so they learned after accidentally running headfirst into one of their robots. Ratchet, acting on instinct and instinct alone, brought his Omniwrench over the lifeless droid's face, but the damage was done. Adrenaline was sent pumping and Clank activated an area scan, alerting them of the location of nearby enemies.

"Okay," Ratchet dared to speak only after they'd reached a fort at the outside of the city walls, "So how are we gonna get one of those ships?"

Clank hummed aloud, "If we had a turret or rocket launcher, we could simply shoot down a multitude of them and assemble a makeshift carrier from the scraps," Then he shook his head, "But we do not have any heavy weaponry. We might be able to secure some if we keep moving forward. The Blargian ground forces must have a camp somewhere. If we can infiltrate it and acquire some heavy weapons, then we should be able to get out of here in ten hours time," There was a moment's pause, "If everything goes according to plan, that is."

The look he received in response was of sheer disbelief. It had been Ratchet's idea to head out here, of course, but even he paused at the sheer absurdity of the little robot's plan. Heavy weaponry? Assembling a craft in less than ten hours? Clank was... really ambitious, wasn't he?

"...well, let's keep moving and see if we can't find a grounded one first or something," Ratchet negotiated, "If we find anything you can use to shoot those guys down then by all means, do so," The statement was followed up with a nonchalant shrug from the Lombax as he took a quick moment to pocket a spare bit of nanotech, left behind by the retreating troops. Just in case. With a nod of agreement, Clank allowed himself to be reattached to Ratchet's back as they headed out of the guard tower and onto a bridge leading deeper into the artificial fields.

Just in time for the bridge to explode.

Well, not so much explode as parts of it collapse. Three well-placed shots by a passing fighter did it in, knocking Ratchet onto his back in the process. From the bolt harness, Clank frowned pointedly at the ground. He could not blame Ratchet for the explosions -such a thing would be preposterous- but it still gnawed at him that he had been smothered underneath the Lombax twice in one day. Hopefully, this would not become a habit.

At least Ratchet got up quicker this time. While set off balance by the explosions, he hadn't been injured; just slightly dazed and a little tense. On Clank's back, there was an odd sensation; something pounding rhythmically against his back. Looking back, he'd felt it before... but it had been subtle, barely noticeable. Now it was rapid and, while still subtle, was highly noticeable. If Clank had been paying attention to Ratchet himself, he might have correlated the mysterious thrum to Ratchet's increased breathing.

"Okay," The Lombax spoke between deep breaths, "That... that was just fantastic. Just what we needed. I thought these guys were trying _not_ to destroy the planet."

Without taking a pause for thought, Clank responded, "It appears that the order to preserve the environment comes second to the order to remove any and all civilians. If they are becoming desperate enough to belay one order in favor of the other, then the logical conclusion is that they are finishing up and simply removing any lifeforms that get in their way by any means necessary."

"Swell," Ratchet took one deep breath, calming himself, "Then we need to get off of this planet pronto, right?"

"Affirmative."

There was no more time wasted. Ratchet only took a second to check for more ships heading their way, "Then let's get moving," He rushed across the ruins of the bridge, keeping one eye on the sky in case of reinforcements. Clank did so more effectively, sending a transmission to all nearby Navigation Computers that sent to him in return a wireless response signal. The closest ship, according to his system, was not far ahead, flying in from behind the mountains. Clank blinked, but nonetheless continued tracking it.

It was not until they reached the next clearing that the ship got close enough for Clank to feel that it might be a threat. By then, though, Ratchet had already spotted it overhead as it landed in the nearby field. The two watched from the bushes, Clank turning his head so that he could fully see the three mindless droids roughly escorting a slim, elderly Novalian off the ship at gunpoint. He cocked his head to one side. Why would they be prepared to use such force on a Novalian who, assuming he had the courage to fight back, had a less than five percent chance of victory? Ratchet took a more critical look at the situation, seeing the courier ship more than it's passengers.

"I'm going in," He waned Clank, giving the robot no time to respond before he barreled into the field, wrench in hand. The robot trailing the group turned at the sound of crushed grass and was greeted in the most appropriate manner Ratchet could think of: with a wrench to the face. The other two robots turned and began shooting, but one was cut through before it could get in a decent shot. The other had Ratchet lined between its cross-hairs, ready to shoot... and would have, had Clank not sensed the lock and alerted Ratchet with an alarmed cry. In response, Ratchet sent his Omniwrench flying at the bot, crashing through its stomach and tearing out multiple circuits. It fell to the ground, twitching, and finally dying.

There was that odd thumping against Clank's back again. It had heightened again when he had cried out, and was now calming again. It was ignored this time as well; Clank instead removed himself from Ratchet's back to inspect the cowering elderly gentleman who was shielding himself clumsily with his arms and cane. Ratchet, skeptically glaring -why would the Blargians be so concerned with this one guy?-, took a step closer.

"What is it you want?!" The Novalian cried in alarm, huddling further into himself as Ratchet took another step closer. Odd, as neither his posture nor face seemed intimidating, "Please, whatever you want, I'll give it to you! Money? Information? Here, take this infobot! Whatever you want! Just don't _touch_ me!"

Clank, alarmed and increasingly concerned, attempted to move forward to help the man; to reassure him in any way. But he was stopped by the leather glove of Ratchet settling on his head, holding him still and capturing his attention. The Lombax, unlike the robot, saw the traces of pain that even the complete healing of nanotech left in it's wake. To attempt anything -especially anything involving contact- would do nothing to help. All they could do was leave the man alone. And if the old man was giving his infobot to the two, free of charge... well, who was he to argue with a victim?

"Let's take a look at what he's got," Ratchet suggested to Clank, who looked clearly baffled. But he did not protest as Ratchet activated the playback. The elderly man inched away from the duo, slowly, but did not have anywhere to run. So he instead hid behind the ship as Ratchet and Clank were otherwise occupied.

* * *

_Captain Qwark, the greatest superhero in the galaxy, was cornered. He took deep, calming breaths as he backed away from the large winged beast, covered in armor and drool. One step more and he would be falling backwards, into an awaiting pit of molten magma. With a deep glare at the beast, he raised his blaster, ready to fire a killing shot into it's skull. He aimed, pulled the trigger and..._

_Nothing happened. The large monster growled, causing the fur around its neck to ruffle and it reached in, mouth wide and over Qwark's head-_

_Pause._

"_Has THIS ever happened to you?"_

_The scene suddenly changed. Instead of halfway down a monster's digestion system, Qwark was standing in a city, surrounded by buildings. The one he happened to be standing in front of, however, was slightly different than the rest. It was still a skyscraper, towering hundreds, perhaps thousands of feet above the ground, but it had a large robot statue holding a giant wrench on its roof._

"_Hi, I'm Captain Qwark," The green man grinned confidently at the camera, "and believe me, there's nothing worse than staring down a Blargian Snagglebeast," The camera zoomed in on his face for the next sequence, "from the inside," and then backed away, just enough to see his entire torso, "and knowing your equipment isn't functioning properly."_

_The scene suddenly shifted to yellow letters with a purple border, on a green background. The camera zoomed out to reveal a Solanian for a grand total of one second before he got covered by Qwark, "That's why I come to Al's Robot Shack for all my electronic needs. Al has been the exclusive repair shop for my super electro gadgets since I was knee high to a sand mouse," Here, he lowered his hand, keeping it flat, to demonstrate the exaggerated height difference. He waggled his brow at the camera, "If Al can't fix it, it's not broke. Ain't that right, Al?"_

_The Solanian apparently named Al appeared on screen for approximately one second, only having time to say, "Ah-" before being cut off again by Qwark._

"_You said it, pal!" Qwark once again appeared outside the shack, "So if you're fighting crime -or just fighting grime, hehe- then come on down to Al's Robot Shack in Metropolis for all your robotic repairs," Suddenly, he appeared next to the large statue on the rooftop, "Al's Robot Shack! It's Qwark-tastic!"_

* * *

"Wow," Ratchet was fighting with himself not to laugh again right then and there. Normally, laughing so much in one day would not occur. He would only spare the odd chuckle once in a while. But that commercial was so... so... stupid! What was Qwark _thinking_? More importantly, what was this Al guy thinking? "That was just... wow. Captain Qwark's really sold out, hasn't he?"

"If this commercial is recent," Clank quickly checked the date that the message was received. Yesterday. Perfect, "Then Al might know of Captain Qwark's location. We should head to Metropolis, Kerwan as soon as we are able to obtain a ship."

Ratchet glanced to the courier ship at the side, and the old man cowering behind it. With a sigh, he got up and rounded the vehicle, facing the frightened man, "Ah, sir? We need to borrow your ship."

"Wh-what?" He asked, gasping in fear and throwing himself to the ground, holding his arm above his head. Clank, having moved beside Ratchet, felt complied to add to Ratchet's request.

"We need to reach Metropolis, Kerwan to meet up with Captain Qwark. If we do find him, we can inform him about this invasion and, hopefully, save this planet. However, in order to do so we require a ship. If you do not mind loaning us yours..."

He gaped up at them, "Y-you mean you're not going to torture me?" When all he received was a subtle nod and an sympathetic stare, from Clank and Ratchet, respectively, he stood up, "'W-well... alright. Go ahead, take it. It's not like I need it," The words were somewhat bitter, and while Clank wrote them off naively, they made Ratchet pause to watch the Novalian walk away from them.

"Hey, mister!" Ratchet called, causing him to pause, "Aren't you coming with? There's room for one more!"

The response of the old Novalian started off with a sigh, "No, boy, I'm not. This is my planet, my home. The rest of the council is dead; I've just been appointed Premier of the Planet. I'm not going to abandon my people," He took a deep breath, "I'm going to stay here and die with them."

The short speech got two different reactions out of his saviors. Clank gave him a look of surprise and awe. Did organics not have the same self-preservation programming that robots had? Ratchet's reaction was unimpressed, at best. He gave a short glare to the Premier as he bluntly asked, "So you're giving up?"

"No!" The Novalian Premier snapped at him, indignant, "I'm not giving up! My responsibility is to the people of this planet, and when it goes-"

Ratchet shook his head, "And what about the people who got off-planet? They're gonna need a leader and if everyone else is dead, that makes it your responsibility, right?" There was a protest on the man's tongue, but Ratchet silenced him with quickly, "You're not the only one around here with problems, buddy. If you're gonna stay here and die then fine," He stopped, giving the man a look of apathy, "I won't stop you. It's not like I care that you're abandoning your people."

For a moment, there was silence. Ratchet turned to board the shuttled, stopping at the command to halt from the Premier. Quiet and numb, he announced that Ratchet was right and requested the two take him with them. Upon a confirming nod from both of the parties, he boarded the ship, head bowed. He gave one last longing glace at the planet before boarding, looking quite solemn and pained. Ratchet watched with a guarded expression, one that caught Clank's attention. Gingerly, he pulled on the glove nearest to him, earning Ratchet's slightly annoyed look in response.

"That was..." The robot was hesitant, "...very noble of you."

He was met with a scoff, "I'm not noble, Clank," His fingers came up to his forehead, trying to calm the sudden tension behind his temples, "Just honest. There's a difference."

Why was Ratchet refusing to take his compliment? There had been something in his eyes... a sudden dullness to the green orbs that were incomprehensible to the small robot. Clank mused over this, nodding once to Ratchet and boarding the ship. Whatever it was, it had helped them this time, so he supposed it would not be right to question it now. Behind him, the Lombax moved to follow, then looked back at the green plains. A sudden chill came over him.

"I'm nowhere near noble," He muttered, shaking his head. The words were cutting reminders, but they needed to be said. After all, if Ratchet was anything, it was honest.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I. Hate. This. Chapter. It took me almost twice the amount of time to write that the last chapter did, despite only being marginally longer. I don't know why... maybe its because certain letters on my keyboard have started sticking, and I'm still getting used to that? Or maybe I just hate this planet? I dunno. Overall, it just feels off. So, why am I posting it and not re-writing it? Well... I honestly don't think I could make it better if I tried. On a completely different note, I'd like to thank Rexy of GameFAQs for uploading a complete script of the game. It means I can write this without constantly watching the cutscenes over and over again. And it really helps for portions I didn't change, like the Infobot messages. Regardless, I'm incredibly thankful for it. Oh, and I do not own it.

What did I do good on?: The Plumber's section. That had me chuckling a bit, rereading it. Weird, as I'm not usually good with comedy...

What did I fail on?: The dialogue. I mentioned in 'Hand in Hand' how dialogue isn't my strong suit due to lack of social interaction, right? Well, I think that's starting to show...

Random Question for Reviewers: Are there any other video game heroes you can think of off the top of your head that remind you of Ratchet? I don't have an answer for this one; I'm just curious.


	4. Kerwan: Goals

It was just another boring day in Metropolis. For most citizens, this would be typical.

Not for Helga von Streissenburgen.

Typically, she would spend her days mocking the weak and pathetic who would dare to challenge Captain Qwark's obstacle course. Most of them failed: giving up on the first or second islands or simply becoming too injured to continue. Some succeeded with horrendously bad times and performances, and actually expect some sort of _prize_ for such awful displays of skill. She could do better with an arm tied behind her back!...in fact, she had!

But today was just... lacking. In the entertainment factor, anyways. It was a slow day, and even though that meant at least twenty customers since opening, they were all so utterly bland with their techniques and even their failures. On a normal day, she could expect to see seven broken limbs and twelve epic falls average. Today, nobody had broken any limbs and there had been two falls. Neither resulting in horrible disfigurement. Helga gave a sigh as she watched some scrawny Markazian kid try to scramble across the small step. Emphasize on 'try'. The boy wasn't even putting up a fight! This was the future of Solana? Solana was doomed.

Balancing her head on her elbows -which, in turn, were propped on her knees- Helga began ruing the day she agreed to take this job. Who's idea was this? Qwark. That son of a cyclo-monkey decided that the people of Metropolis should learn to be more physically fit. Who posted her here? Qwark. Who else would be better to teach the people of Metropolis how to be fit than the woman who taught him how to build muscles? Bah! Trying to teach these miserable crybabies anything was like trying to teach a Blargian snagglebeast to love. It simply could not be done! Or at least, not by any sane person, and Helga was most certainly the most calm and tact of the operatives Qwark had hidden on most worlds.

The Markazian boy, by some trick of fate, had made it to the end, and was looking up at Helga expectantly. She snorted loudly at the boy, "You tink DAT was worth a prize, little boy? Tat was barely worth a single bolt!" The boy was frowning now, his gaze downcast and somewhat frightened. It only caused Helga to scowl, "You are a disgrace not only to your family, but to your entire race! How someone like you could DARE to approach training grounds used by Captain Qwark himself and have the GULL to challenge his unbreakable time trial wit such pathetic upper body strength and undignified jumping is something I cannot even begin to comprehend. Now GO!" Her loud voice bellowed, becoming larger and engulfing him as he backed away in fright, "Before you desecrate the name of Captain Qwark or his USEFUL companions further!" The boy screamed, running off in fright. Loud sobbing could be heard even after he crossed the bridge back to the center of Metropolis.

So, where was she? Ah, yes, calm and tact.

At any rate, she was certainly regretting taking this boring post. Nothing to do, nobody to see... even that old man with the funny eye had been good conversation, back on her mission to Grelbin all those years ago. The monotony of undercover life was starting to get to her. If something didn't happen, and soon, she'd-

_Beep beep. Beep beep._

The large trainer glanced down at the comm-unit awkwardly strapped to her waist. It was as if her prayers had been answered! With a swift movement of her hand, she snatched the unit and brought it up to her face, squinting to determine which of the tiny buttons would allow her to accept and playback the message. Curse modern technology! Back when she was young, people merely sent quickly typed and poorly written text messages with a press of a button. But now they recorded videos of themselves and you had to accept the video message and then wait for it to decode and then activate the playback manually. Bah!

Finally, the auto-play activated and Captain Qwark's holographic image appeared in front of her, hovering above her with a look of smugness and... nerves? What reason would Captain Qwark have to be nervous? Eagerly, she leaned forward, as if that would somehow transfer the message into her brain faster. The holograph cleared its throat and smiled as it began ranting on in that peculiar way that only Captain Qwark could.

"Greetings, Helga," He spoke with a wide grin that he often gave when appearing in commercials. It seemed to charm other people and, though Helga herself was immune to (or at least, believed herself to be) said charm, he never seemed to stop using it. As if it could not be turned off, "I've got a few new recruits coming your way! A duo eager to join our little team and we need to make sure they're Team Qwark material. Set out the 'Extremely Difficult' course for them and if they die... well," For some reason he looked almost giddy at the prospect. Helga found that odd -she would certainly be laughing when they inevitably failed- but the Captain? "that would be horrible. But if they don't... eh, give them a swingshot or something and send me the video. Qwark, out."

The holographic image of her commanding officer disappeared, and Helga raised her brow in response. New recruits? 'Extremely Difficult' mode? Dying? She narrowed her eyes, allowing a gleeful, dark smirk to cross her visage.

Suddenly, today just got a lot less boring.

* * *

"Set her down gently, Ratchet. Activate the bottom thrusters to soften the landing and decrease speed to somewhere between twenty-five and ten miles per hour. Do not be afraid to circle around if you have not yet reached this speed. Upon reaching the exact spot you want to land, deactivate x-axis control and z-axis control. Use y-axis control to lower her to the ground, then deactivate y-axis control and set the engine mode to 'hibernation'. Am I going too fast for you?"

"Nah," The Lombax replied, gently pulling over the designated parking area and flicking some switched on the dashboard, "I got this. Thanks, though."

Flying from Novalis to Metropolis had, thankfully, been mostly uneventful. The most exciting thing to have occurred was the Premier of Novalis' horrified discovery that the driver (AKA Ratchet) had only driven one other ship, which was currently in a pile of smoking metal scraps on Novalis. Clank had taken note of Ratchet's progress as a pilot and had determined his driving to have improved by a short percentage. With a little practice, he might eventually turn out to be a decent driver. Might being the key word, seeing as organic lifeforms all had a random streak to him. He had learned that one rather quickly in his few short hours of life.

Ratchet surprised Clank, and proved him correct at the same time, by setting the ship down with no complications. He even jumped out of the vehicle upon disabling the engine and double checked the parking job he did. For all of his carelessness while actually driving, the robot had noticed that Ratchet had formed a quick attachment to the ship, gently petting and cooing it as he inspected it for scratches or damage. A curious quirk. Did organics always get so attached to inanimate objects? Or was this more... personal? Well, no matter, he supposed. This would be a phenomenon he would look into more deeply _after_ Drek's defeat.

The Premier of Novalis exited the spacecraft last, glancing around with widened eyes and shaking hands. The ride had not been pleasant for him. He had spent the entire time nervously watching the front visor, screaming in terror anytime they so much as got close to anything Ratchet could possibly hit. He had expected the driver to be annoyed at this -or even a little humored- but Ratchet's glances had held no traces of amusement or annoyance, as they had at other people, but only a bitter recognition that made his eyes darken. The exchange left Clank more confused than anything, but he swallowed back that confusion and tried to focus on his goal. But he couldn't get those words out of his head.

"_I'm not noble, Clank. Just honest."_

What was the difference? Honesty was very noble, and to save a life on top of it all? Totally noble. But Ratchet had been quiet and less investigative during the flight this time around, only really talking to ask for a parking lesson. It was baffling, especially when compared to Ratchet's talkative nature on the last flight, even if it was short. What did the reasoning matter if the job was done? This question had puzzled him throughout the short flight to Metropolis. It still very much puzzled him.

Ratchet noticed the Premier stumbling out of the spacecraft and moved to grab him before he could fall face first onto the ground. He was given a curt nod in reply as the elderly man gathered his bearings and nodded at the two, "Thank you. Both of you. Without the two of you..." He coughed loudly into his hand (so THAT was a cough...) and turned his head away, "Anyways, I am going to go find my people and organize some sort of relief effort. It's the least I can do to help," He gave a look to them, "When you find Captain Qwark, please ask him to save my people. I'll contact the Galactic Rangers in the meanwhile and-"

"That will not be necessary, sir," Clank interjected quickly, receiving the same urge he felt when Ratchet suggested doing the exact same thing, "You see..."

"Clank's a scout," Smoothly interrupted the Lombax, leaning up against the vehicle, "Sent to check out the situation on Novalis before reporting to Captain Qwark. He'll handle everything, don't worry."

The Premier nodded, accepting this quickly, which surprised Clank. Had Ratchet's words really been that convincing? Or was this simply a man trusting his savior? "Very well, then. I leave the fate of my people in your hands," He took a shuttering breath, closing his eyes tight, "Please hurry."

As the man scurried away, looking very frail and broken but still with an air of purpose, Clank turned to Ratchet, staring up at him, "You lied to him," His tone was flat; what was the appropriate emotion? Grateful? Angry? "Whatever happened to your honesty?"

"I wasn't _technically_ lying," The Lombax answered, moving towards the vehicle and reaching inside of one window. His hand fished around the interior of the vehicle, searching, "You really were there scouting, and you really are going to report to Qwark, and you really will help save Novalis," He finally pulled his hand free of the ship, the appendage gripped around his wrench. He glanced over it, perhaps checking for damage, "I just kinda didn't mention that you don't work for the Rangers. Actually..." Ratchet paused, glancing over at him with narrowed eyes scanning the robot critically, "Who DO you work for?"

Clank blinked impartially, already having prepared his response, "Classified."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ratchet rolled his eyes, lightly smacking the wrench against his non-occupied hand, "Well, not like it matters. This is where I get off, too," The Lombax took a moment to meet Clank's eyes, "Metropolis has been my destination from the beginning. I'm gonna start a new life here, Clank."

"Oh," The robot blinked. He had not put much thought into _why_ Ratchet had built a ship, "So then you have a job lined up for you?"

"Well, no..."

"A place to stay?"

"No..."

Clank tilted his head to the side, "Do you know anybody here?"

"This was supposed to be a fresh start," Ratchet shrugged. Clank shook his head; Ratchet had charged headfirst into a trio of armed robots earlier. Why would he have had a plan for something as ambiguous as moving? "I guess I'll stay at a shelter 'til I can get a job and go from there. Anywhere's better than Veldin," This last statement was added with a bitter tone.

His processor took a moment to contemplate the full meaning of this. What would not having Ratchet along entail? Well, he would be slower, for starters. And have a harder time facing down the Blargians directly. He could be a bit more stealthy, but would that really provide any aid? Not to mention Captain Qwark...

Something clicked in his memory banks, "At least come with me to see Captain Qwark. He would be able to write you a letter of recommendation. I am certain you could obtain any job you could ever want with that."

He was looked at oddly, Ratchet's eyes scanning over him. Finally, the Lombax nodded, pushing back against the ship as he started walking forward, "Alright. Look's like we're stickin' together 'til Al's Robot Shack."

As they walked forward together, deciding not to stick Clank to Ratchet's back again, the robot buried himself in thought. He must find Captain Qwark in this city. If he did not, then he would have to leave to stop the Blargians and continue the search on his own. Already he did not like that prospect, considering the fate of the first ship he obtained (and ignoring the eerily similar fate of the second). In addition to that... he found that the prospect of Ratchet being alone in this city, unable to support himself, unsettled him. Perhaps the Captain could help the Lombax find a nice job and a nice apartment. Maybe he would even offer Ratchet something himself when Clank would honestly tell him about all that Ratchet had done to further his efforts to stop Drek.

The word 'wish' occurred to him. A somewhat childish way of desiring something. He wished Ratchet good fortune. It was the least he could do.

He was lost in his own thoughts. It took Ratchet pausing to ask directions, and Clank unknowingly walking into him, to shake the robot out of his daydreaming. What was he doing? He could not sit around and 'wish' while there was work to be done! Quickly, he started scanning around, looking for any clues that could aid in finding the Captain. His optics widened when, instead of a clue, he spotted the Captain himself. Standing in front of a large obstacle course. With a spring attached to his torso... curious, but only barely noteworthy.

He grasped Ratchet's hand and pulled, ignoring the surprised yelp or the annoyed expression of the Cazar he was questioning. He could not believe this! What luck they had, running into Qwark under such circumstances. Funny, he would have assumed that the Captain was taller... but it did not matter. Finally, this quest could be put to rest!

"Uh, Clank," Ratchet asked as he allowed himself to be pulled along, "Where are we going?"

"The Captain!" The robot exclaimed in response, highly elated, "The Captain is right over there-! Oh! You wait here; I will make introductions!" Ignoring Ratchet's puzzlement, he raced ahead as fast as his small metal legs could carry him, stopping in front of the Captain. Qwark did not seem to notice him at first, so he spoke up, "Captain Qwark-"

"Welcome to the Captain Qwark Fitness Course!" The Captain greeted with glowing blue eyes and a stoic expression. Clank opened his mouth to speak, but the Captain continued talking, "If you're strong enough!" He made flexing movements, "Fast enough!" He folded his hands behind his back, "And clever enough!" Here, he tapped his skull, "To beat my time on the fitness course, then my own personal trainer, Helga von Streissenburgen, will grant you a prize! Simply make your way to the third island to complete the course. Good luck!"

"Captain," Clank spoke up, "While physical fitness is an important part of every organic lifeforms' routine, I must implore you to-"

The Captain interrupted, still stoic, "Qwark enterprises is not responsible for any sprains, broken bones, snapped tendons, bruised egos or accidental death incurred while running the course."

With a blink, the robot continued to speak, "No, Captain, you do not understand. There is imminent danger to the galaxy and we urgently need your assistance," The Captain did not respond, "There is an army of Blargians taking apart planets for their own selfish purposes! We must stop them!"

"Clank?" He turned around to face Ratchet, who looked... amused? The same glint of light that was in his eye during his laughing fit was there now, so he could only assume Ratchet found something funny, "Don't you notice anything... odd about Captain Qwark?"

Blankly staring at the organic, Clank replied, "Well, he had glowing blue eyes, a metallic face with a vocal dispersion unit and springs where his legs should be. Other than that," He shrugged, "nothing apparent comes to mind."

"...and WHY do you think he has glowing eyes, a metal face and a spring?"

It took a moment of deep thought -which, for Clank, meant only a few seconds- before a satisfactory answer was reached, "They must be synthetic replacements for body parts lost during combat with the forces of evil!"

"Uh... no," Ratchet was doing that 'laughing' thing again, albeit to a lesser extreme, "That's not Captain Qwark, you numbskull. It's just a robot dummy. It only says the same thing over and over again. Watch," Ratchet walked closer and stood in front of the fake Qwark who, surely enough, began spouting the same speech he had given to Clank yet again. A scan revealed motion detectors in its forehead and abdomen, gears to move it and no central processor for thought organization. A true 'robot dummy', and most certainly not Captain Qwark.

"Oh," He said simply. Then he frowned at Ratchet. Why had the Lombax not told him this before?

"Hey, c'mon," Ratchet patted him lightly on the back at the sight of his scowl, a small smirk on the Lombax's face, "Be cool. I was just goofin' with ya. Look, that Helga lady might know where Qwark is. I'll make it to the end of the course real quick and we'll ask her about it, no prob," With the skill and ease of someone who had been living in a mountainous region for most of their lives, Ratchet quickly scrambled up to a higher ledge, pausing only to give Clank a hand, "You coming?"

With a slight moment of hesitance, Clank grasped the extended hand and was pulled up and onto Ratchet's back. This time, he noticed, was .0843261 seconds faster than the last time Ratchet had connected him to the leather strap. It appeared, for better or worse, that they were getting used to this. Really, he should not. They were going to separate soon anyways...

They came to a wall. Well, two walls, actually, both placed parallel to each other. The rock around and behind said wall had been carefully smoothed away. It was as if the walls themselves were required to get past the island.

Ratchet frowned at it, "Why would anyone place walls like this? It doesn't make any sense!"

Information flashed into his memory banks. Clank was not quite sure WHY the information had not been readily accessible, but he assumed that there was some kind of block that prevented him from retrieving certain information before he needed to. He idly wondered what other information was stored in his memory banks as he began instructing, "This type of wall is used for testing a maneuvering technique known as the kick jump. Simply run up the wall, kick yourself off onto the adjacent wall, and repeat. Be warned: it is not an easy technique to master-"

"Eh," Ratchet backed against the leftmost wall, "Doesn't sound so tough."

He made it up the first section of wall with no problems on his first try. Clank blinked, befuddled. This technique often took years to master, yet Ratchet simply listened to an admittedly simple explanation and was able to do so with no problems. It was possibly that he had heard of this move before, but Clank ruled that out: Kyzil Plateau was mountainous enough where he would never need to figure out himself and distant enough to have never heard of that technique from someone passing through. Maybe Ratchet really was a fast learner? It made sense, considering how easily he adapted to having Clank on his back, as well as his quickly improving driving skills.

"See?" The Lombax commented, grinning widely, "Piece of-"

Clank's internal sensors went off at that moment. An alert: high levels of trinitrotoluene were contained in the boxes just ahead of the duo. Ratchet placed a hand on one, meaning to climb over them, and an internal timer went off, creating an audible beep. Clank gave a shout of warning; futile, as Ratchet had already jumped away from the boxes as they beeped several times more, each beep becoming successively faster until finally, it exploded. It was brilliantly designed. Pieces of the box were sturdy enough to hold the TNT, but fragile enough that the explosion caused them to disintegrate, preventing the spread of shrapnel. If you got injured because of those explosions, it was the explosion itself and not the box.

Ratchet gawked at them, eyes widened, and that thumping against Clank's back returning to noticeable strengths, "Okay. Maybe this won't be so easy," He sighed, "Exploding boxes? Really? Who'd be paranoid enough to come up with that?

"I believe," Clank only paused to double-check the information, "that the 'Boom Box' is copyrighted to Gadgetron."

Ratchet rolled his eyes, unimpressed, "Of course it's Gadgetron," He added a condescending snort, "Who else?" Clank frowned, but did not otherwise comment as Ratchet carefully maneuvered around the area where the boxes had been, wary of any possible traps along the way. He kick jumped his way up the second wall, noticeably larger than the first, and stumbled a bit as he approached the top. He was lucky to have grabbed the edge by then. Upon reaching the top, they came unto a thick cable leading to the second island, which Ratchet did not hesitate to use as a zip-line. This was interesting because, instead of using the zip-line equipment itself, Ratchet decided to use his own wrench. It held up fine against the heat of friction with the cable. Clank made a note: the Omniwrench was an incredibly versatile tool.

They ended up on a platform at the base of the second island. Unlike the mountain-like structure of the first isle that was easily traversed, the second was adorned with a yellow and black building, cubic in shape. Small platforms jutted out of the sides, with height and distance Clank knew he couldn't jump. Thank goodness for Ratchet. The Lombax scrambled up and over the platforms, quickening his pace when some of them sunk back into the large cube and disappeared. There were a few more sections where he needed to kick jump -both where the walls were slowly being retracted back into the cube- but Ratchet managed it, breathing quickening as he went. At this point, Clank determined that the pounding on his back was related, in some way, to Ratchet's breathing patterns. It was most notable when he was startled, but now it appeared when he was tired...?

Upon reaching the top of the complex, Ratchet stopped momentarily to take a breath. Then he zip-lined down to the third island, doing a short little flip as he used the zip-line to propel himself into the air and spin a little as he landed on both feet. The instincts of a feline.

The trainer, a large and bulbous female robot with wiry hair tied up into two segments, one on each side of her head, glared at the duo's flashy entrance. She scowled as the Lombax recovered from his flip, looking up at her with a cocky grin. Clank removed himself from Ratchet's back to watch the affair from the sidelines, ready to intervene should it look like a fight would break out.

The woman -Helga von Streissenburgen, presumably- snorted at the Lombax, obviously irritated, "Stand at attention, lardball!" She screamed at him, causing his ears to bend downward in an instinctive attempt to protect themselves. The movement made Clank frown; you would think a fitness trainer would know not to scream into the ears of someone who so obviously had elevated hearing, "Dat was da most pathetic excuse of a performance I have ever seen on dat obstacle course!"

Ratchet -who had barely recovered from being screamed at- frowned and blinked in surprise, loudly asking, "Whataya mean? I finished the circuit just fine!"

"Well, da," She agreed, softly. Then her voice got louder and louder as she snapped at the Lombax, moving closer in the process, "But it vas veak, veak, VEAK!" Once again, the large appendages folded in on themselves. Clank almost spoke up at this point, but Helga continued talking, "Ven _I_ vas competing in de Interplanetary Sports Medley, I vould devour courses like dat for BREAKFAST!"

One of Ratchet's hands had moved up and was now gently massaging at the folds of his ears. He gave a look of malcontent towards the woman as he muttered, not too softly, "And wash it down with a thirteen course meal?"

A dark gleam sparkled in Miss Streissenburgen's eye, one Clank could not help but notice, "You need to learn some manners, brat," She spoke with sourness dripping off the tip of every word, "Ven I vas your age, I vould be beaten six vays to Sunday before I vould be able to talk like that! In fact, if it were up to me, you'd be drilling 'til your legs came off!" She gave something of a sigh after this, almost as if her faux disappointment was genuine, "but, somehow, you managed to impress dat fool, Captain Qwark."

At this point, Clank simply HAD to interject, "The Captain knows about us?"

"He certainly does," She scowled, "Sent me a message about you two earlier today. I vas supposed to give you a svingshot upon completion of the course, but..." She trailed off, with a smirk, "You did disgrace my obstacle course, so perhaps I vill keep it..." She shortly paused, "...unless you two vere villing to pay, dat is..."

"What?!" Ratchet growled, annoyance clear in his stature.

Clank also felt this 'annoyance'; this internal disturbance at her treatment of Ratchet and intentional withholding of the prize. Personally, he thought Ratchet had done an excellent job -better than he could have, at any rate- and rather deserved that prize for risking his life on that insane course for the sake of finding Captain Qwark. That swingshot was Ratchet's hard-earned reward from the Captain. She had no right to be doing this; it was unjust. How could she call herself a follower of Qwark?

"Urgh... fine!" Ratchet grumbled after a bit, taking the robot by surprise, "I don't care about the stupid swingshot. Just tell me where to find Qwark or how to contact him."

She growled at him, turning away sharply, "Even if I _DID_ know," Her voice cut through the air sharply, "Vat makes you tink I vould tell you?"

"...this was a waste of time," Ratchet concluded. Clank took a critical look at the Lombax. He looked tired, but more than that he looked angry. Ready to lash out at whatever happened to get in his way, regardless of statistical information. With a soft growl, he stormed away; probably trying to figure out how to get out of here without consulting the head honcho. Clank looked back at Helga, wanting more than anything to chew her out for disobeying her direct orders and stealing property that did not belong to her, but decided such a thing would lack in the fruitfulness department. And the swingshot...

...The swingshot was loosely hooked to her belt, right above Clank's head. She was making a pointed effort at ignoring the duo, no doubt feeling content. Quickly, he came to a conclusion, and snuck forward quietly. If he was going to take on Drek by himself, then disarming opponents would be an excellent first step. Why not practice on this oblivious obese robot? He was almost under her now, and did not understand how she had not noticed him, but did not look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, he reached up, grasping at the hilt of the swingshot and pulling it meticulously, lest he be caught and that- well, that would just be horrible. The swingshot came out of its holster with almost no complications, and before she could notice, Clank quickly snuck backwards, grateful for the pompous attitude of the trainer. Because of her, they now possessed a swingshot. As a reward for his work, Clank allowed himself a small smile. Just a small one, though.

Ratchet was still trying to figure out how to get across the large gap between islands three and one when Clank joined him. Without looking, he told the robot, "This is getting ridiculous. I'm just about ready to call a cab... think we can find enough money for a ride over there?"

"Perhaps..." Clank let his tone become suggestive to catch Ratchet's attention, "Or perhaps we can simply use this swingshot on those telecommunication orbs."

"Where did you-?"

There was an air of disbelief within Ratchet's tone. Clank allowed himself to touch up his own with a dash of smugness as he replied, "I retrieved it from Helga."

"What?!" Ratchet's disbelief expanded into shock, then faded into skeptical anger as he took the swingshot from Clank, "Why the hell would she give this thing to you?"

His own voice failed him, allowing a little shyness to seep in as he confessed, "She, er, did not."

Green eyes widened in his direction, "You stole it!"

"Incorrect!" Clank admonished immediately, "I did not 'steal' anything! This swingshot is the rightful property of the person who cleared that obstacle course. That is you. By refusing to hand it over, Miss Helga von Streissenburgen was illegally obtaining something that belonged to someone else -the very definition of 'stealing'. Not to mention disobeying Captain Qwark..." But that had not really needed mentioning.

Ratchet was silent for a moment, simply staring at the robot with eyes that were wide. They did not seem to hold any traces of annoyance or amusement. Nor any other emotion he recognized. Just this strange little shine. But just as soon as he had noticed it, it was gone, leaving the typical Ratchet hard stare in its wake, "Well, thanks. But it was still totally stealing," Clank frowned, about to correct the Lombax once again when Ratchet shook his head and continued, "Now, c'mon, we got a Robot Shack to investigate don't we?"

Clank quietly agreed, and allowed himself to once again be pulled onto Ratchet's back. This time there was a . 2383859 second improvement. They were most definitely getting used to this

* * *

.

The two spent the majority of the day walking around Metropolis together, attempting to uncover the location of Al's Robot Shack. They asked people and secured maps, but kept getting lost. As much as Ratchet didn't want to admit it, he knew he was to blame for that. He would glance at the map only on occasion, mostly running on memory instead of the actual instructions. It certainly didn't help that he was constantly switching between trying to find his way and playing with his new swingshot. That Clank stole for him. He still couldn't believe that. He'd have thought Clank was some sort of goody two-shoes. The robot managed to surprise him and, to be honest, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience. In fact... it was more than anyone had done for him since he was seven.

But that just brought back bad memories, so he'd leave it at that.

They came across Al's Robot Shack more by accident than anything. The only reason either of them recognized it was from the ending of that stupid commercial, where Qwark posed next to the statue on top of the awning. Clank had spotted it first, pulling on Ratchet's arm as he sent the cable from the swingshot flying outward yet again, hitting a pole with a loud 'clank' before being pulled back into the firing mechanism. The resulting glance from Clank seemed exasperated, which he grinned at in response.

"Are you quite finished?" Clank asked, "I did not secure that swingshot so you could play with it."

Ratchet's grin widened, "No," He agreed, "You _stole _it," The robot looked irritated at the accusation, which was probably why Ratchet was still making it, "because you thought I deserved it, right? Thanks again for that."

Clank nodded, and walked slightly ahead of Ratchet. When he wasn't looking, the Lombax aimed the swingshot at the back of the robot's head and lightly squeezed the trigger. The cable fired forth and smacked right into the unprotected cognitive casing, causing Clank to fall forward. He sent a glare back at Ratchet as the Lombax laughed, but did not comment. Maybe he didn't feel like raining on Ratchet's parade. The Lombax kinda hoped that was the case: he hadn't felt good enough to joke around like this in a long time.

The shack was large and cluttered, looking more like Ratchet's old workspace than a proper shop. It made the place feel kinda... cozy. But instead of ship parts and tools lying around, most of the mess was spare robot parts. Arms and legs. Circuitry that Ratchet could only look at in confusion. He DID recognize a chip containing the Robotic Ignition System programming, and almost laughed. The customer list was left right on the counter -a stupid business move, considering how easy it was to copy information into an infobot- as well as a cash register that looked centuries old. The Lombax whistled at the sight of it. Not even on backwater Veldin did they still use such primitive equipment.

The whistling caught the attention of an overweight Solanian behind the counter, wearing a white lab coat and black goggles. Even before Clank commented on how that was the man from the infomercial, Ratchet recognized the man as Al, the owner of the store. Huh, he looked younger than he did in his commercial with Qwark. Then again, he'd only been in it for a few seconds. The man known as Al didn't turn to look at them, only somewhat rudely asking what they wanted as he continued working on whatever was in his hand.

"You that robot guy?" Ratchet asked, earning an elbow to the stomach from Clank.

Al finally sighed, lifting his goggles over his head and turning as he spoke, "No, actually, I BUILD robots. I, myself, am not a robot guy, per se... in order for that to be true," He snorted, as though something hilarious just occurred to him, "I'd have to be at least fifty percent metal and carry an internal memory storage of at least 15 terabytes. Ha-ha..." Ratchet wrinkled his nose as the guy alternated between laughter and snorting. This guy was a total, grade-A, first class...

"Nerd," He rolled his eyes. Clank gave him a look, and for a moment Ratchet wondered if he was going to ask what 'nerd' meant.

Instead, the robot surprised him by interjecting, "I like him."

"Well," Ratchet smiled, making his voice teasing, "you know what they say about birds of a feather..."

Before Clank could respond, Al had completely turned around, having finished working on whatever he was working, which Ratchet was surprised to find was simply a pair of glasses. So the man needed glasses as well as goggles? He couldn't imagine how that could work. Al placed the glasses on his head and asked, in a more polite, business-like tone, "Now, what can I do for you boys?"

"We are attempting to find Captain Qwark," Clank explained. Ratchet half-expected him to explain how the galaxy was in mortal peril, and was slightly surprised when he simply continued, "Your infobot commercial features Captain Qwark. It was shot only a few days ago, so we figured you might be able to assist us in locating him."

"Your logic is commendable," Al applauded, "However, I haven't seen Captain Qwark since we shot that infomercial together. Damn well better be worth it, with what it cost me..." He rolled his eyes, "'Certainly did bring you two here though, didn't it? Say," Al's eyes lit up, and he leaned over the counter to get a better look at Clank, "you've got a pretty adaptable form. Retractable appendages, integrated storage compartment, Spectrum Six Comm Unit... am I right to assume you run on XP-16 Sisterboards?"

Clank nodded, looking quite pleased despite his neutral voice, "Version 7.66."

"Back at ya!" Al winked, shooting his fingers at the little 'bot. Ratchet groaned softly, rolling his eyes. Well, at least he'd gotten what he wanted: smarter company, "I may be able to help you after all! How does a helipack upgrade sound?"

"Upgrade?" Ratchet asked, taking a look down at Clank. He'd already thought the little robot was pretty advanced. Why upgrade him?

Al nodded, grasping at a drawing pad thrown haphazardly onto the counter and quickly doodling out a little Clank, arms replaced by spinning blades, with an extra one on top of his head. The odd design prompted a raised eyebrow from the Lombax, "Ya see, your pal here is a seven-six-six. That means he's one of the few robots eligible for the helipack upgrade, which will allow him to glide over short distances or hover safely to the ground. It's still sorta _officially_ in the testing stage, but I've already worked out all the bugs," He suddenly rolled his eyes, becoming annoyed, "And if the Commissioner of Robotic Technologies would have listened to me, it'd already be publicly available. Ah,well," He sighed, "Just means I'll be the only one giving these things out."

"If I am going to be going off on my own, that would be useful," Clank agreed with a short nod.

"I'll, uh," Al suddenly looked sheepish, "Just need my fee for service, and we'll get right on that.

Clank looked crestfallen at the word 'fee' as he told Al, "I have no money. I am sorry sir."

The robot man looked just as disappointed as Clank did. He probably wanted the opportunity to play around with Clank's systems, Ratchet assumed, "Oh. Well, I'm sure we can work out some form of alternative payment... hmm," He eyed the two, as if summing up how much they'd be worth.

Ratchet didn't bother listening to them as he walked around the shop, inspecting random things. He overheard the word 'labor' and shuttered, really hoping Clank wasn't using him as a bargaining chip. A part he actually recognized caught his attention. The thing was a planet-range vehicle gear crank. Something that hadn't been readily available since ships became widely used. Al really loved his vintage stuff. He examined it for seconds before growing bored and sighing, shifting his gaze out the back window. His eyes widened.

"Hey, Al!" He called, catching the two nerds' attention, "Does that dinosaur in the back still run?"

He received a puzzled look, "THAT old thing? It hasn't worked since I was the size of a Pulsar 20-B Rocket Cannon."

Why he was doing this he wasn't sure, but before he could take it back the words fell out of his mouth, "I bet you one helipack upgrade that I can get it running again."

"Deal," The Solanian smirked, "and good luck. Not even Harrington's Repairs could fix that old thing up. I very much doubt you could."

Silently, Ratchet whispered, "Challenge accepted," and donned his Omniwrench, getting to work. He loved his Omniwrench. It was not only a useful, all-around versatile tool: it was also a wrench. There was whispering behind him, but Ratchet ignored it, instead crawling under the old floater and getting to work. It was a delivery truck, from way back when wheels were going out of style. It had been converted into a flying truck by simply removing the wheels and adding the necessary parts. A clumsy, but cost-effective move. If it was being treated like your average hovercar, then it was no wonder no one could fix it. Certainly enough, the problem was a power failure. The truck's old battery was no longer transmitting to the thrusters below it, resulting in them failing to work. Not a problem. Replace the battery, check the wiring and double-check each thruster. They worked on an open-circuit system, so if even one thing was wrong, the whole system would crash.

Finally, Ratchet climbed out, feeling rather than seeing oil on his fur, and climbed into the truck, pushing the start-up button. The truck purred to life, hovering several feet off the ground before zooming moving forward; slowly, but still fast enough to catch the Lombax mechanic off guard. Ratchet gasped, falling forward onto the gear crank. Oh. It was in 'drive'... who the hell left it in drive?!

After climbing out of the vehicle and scolding Al rather thoroughly for almost causing him to crash, the three returned into the shop, "Alright," Al grumbled, "A promise is a promise. Come up here, little guy," He grasped Clank by the hand and pulled him behind the counter, beginning to work, "This won't hurt a bit, I promise."

The word 'hurt' caused Ratchet's ears to straighten instinctively. This was not helped at all by Clank's shocked exclamation, which was followed by some very mechanical sounds. He attempted to see around Al as he worked, but couldn't get a good view of anything. What was he doing to Clank? Hopefully they hadn't just agreed to equip him with some buggy, half-assed-

"Ta-da!" Al proudly presented Clank, who looked normal for all of three seconds before quickly retracting his limbs and replacing them with the blades seen on the sketch... only better.

"Ratchet," Clank spoke neutrally, "Earlier you asked me to be 'cool'. Am I cool now?"

The Lombax chuckled again, feeling relieved, "Yeah, you da man, Clank," It looked like this Al guy was the real deal, and this helipack upgrade... looked ridiculous. But Clank demonstrated exactly what it could do by hopping off the counter and slowly levitating to the ground, blades whipping loudly as he did. Clank's lack of any climbing ability would be rectified now, so hopefully the robot would be alright on his own.

Oh, right. This was where they were to part. Al shouted that he was welcome to the duo, but he was mostly ignored. Instead, Ratchet focused his attention on the robot. He looked almost... sad.

"I am going to search the city and inquire more about Captain Qwark's location. Thank you for all of your help. Good luck on your new life, Ratchet."

He gave the best smile to Clank that he could. It was a pain to admit, but he was going to miss the little robot, "Good luck finding Captain Qwark," He snorted, "If our luck so far is any indication, you'll need it. Let me know the next time you're in Metropolis," He gave a smirk, "Oh, and take care of the ship. If we ever meet again and she has ONE scratch on her, I'll turn you into a toaster oven," Clank looked genuinely afraid at that. Ratchet had to laugh, "Kidding! Stop taking things so seriously," He walked towards the front entrance, noticing how Clank was heading out the back, "Stay cool, Clank," Ratchet gave a short wave and walked out into the bustling city.

Now, to find a job...

* * *

"Well, Mister..."

"Please, sir," The Lombax interrupted with a smile he hoped was professional, "Just call me Ratchet."

"Ratchet," The man repeated, tasting the name on his lips, before continuing, "I have to admit, it's highly... unusual for me to conduct an interview with a boy wearing only a pair of pants," He nodded briefly to Ratchet's clothing, to which the Lombax discreetly blushed, "but given the circumstances, not to mention the brilliant repair job you did on Bluebird," He motioned to a small blue ship, levitating slightly off the ground. Said ship was little more than rusted parts and duck tape when Ratchet had arrived, "I think I can overlook it just this once."

"So," It was hard not to let his excitement shine through, "Does that mean I have the job, sir?"

"Now don't get your hopes up, kid," The head mechanic responded in a tone that reminded the Lombax way too much of Doc Know-It-All for him to be comfortable, "I've seen sixteen applications today, Ratchet, and almost all of them had completed higher levels of education than you. More unsettling, however, was the fact that you did not list your age or give any identification. You understand that we can hire you regardless of your age, so long as you're a registered citizen of Solana, right?"

"Yeah," Ratchet tried not to let his disappointment show in his voice, "I know. Listen, thanks for the interview, sir. I'll come by next week to see if I have the job."

The head mechanic nodded, a brief smile on his face, "Hey, for the record, kid... ya got skills. I don't think you should be wasting them on fixing commercial ships," He shrugged, "But that's what I do and it's a living so... yeah," He stood as Ratchet did, leaning over and extending his hand out. Ratchet met him halfway and shook, "It was a pleasure meetin' you, Ratchet. See ya in a week."

"Yeah," Ratchet's response wasn't so enthused. He kept his face impartial as he walked through the large bay where mechanics twice his age worked on ships, robots and random appliances. When he'd first walked in this had seemed like a dream job. Now it felt monotonous and repetitive. But it was what normal people did, and hadn't that been his intention from the start? Sigh. He was already starting to miss Clank.

The robot hadn't left yet. Ratchet had walked by the ship once or twice and it was still there. Or at least, it had been before the interview. They hadn't run into each other since Al's, though. The robot must still have been asking around about Captain Qwark. It had been hours, though, and with Clank's unusual streak of bad luck, he doubted the robot had found anything. All the same, Ratchet had been keeping his own ear open as well; eyes peeled for anyone that might recognize Qwark. So far he was having about as good a time of it as he imagined Clank to be, but he hadn't really been trying, either so...

His next destination was Metropolis Tram Center Epsilon. They needed a new technician and, while Ratchet wasn't as good with computers as he was with mechanics, he wasn't terrible with them, either. It wouldn't be too long before he got the hang of it. Assuming he could get the job, that was. Ratchet wasn't pretending to be optimistic about this, especially after the disastrous results of his first interview. He was young in a city full of willing workers -lots with more formal education than he'd ever had. He'd have to be good if he wanted to make it here.

The train station was nearly empty by this time. It was just before your average second-shift worker would be released from their menial labor, so it wasn't terribly surprising that they'd be near empty before the rush. Ratchet was grateful for that, at least. The last thing he needed right now was a crowd.

"Hello?" The Lombax called into the station interior. Regardless of the lack of customers, there should have been _someone_ there. It was spooky how quiet this place was, really, "Hello-"

A hand clamped around his mouth, cutting him off. Before he could react and knock whoever dared to touch him, a quiet and familiar voice harshly shushed him. Standing on a crate beside him was Clank, optics gazing into him with surprise. He probably looked the same, though, so he couldn't really blame the robot, "Hello, Ratchet," He greeted with his tone neutral, "I did not expect to see you again so soon. What are you doing here?"

"Applying for a job," Ratchet stated, keeping his voice low as requested, "What about you? Still hunting Qwark?"

The robot tilted his head to one side, one eye remaining wide while its twin narrowed, "You are applying for a job in a private Blargian tram station?" He shook his head, "Pardon me if I do not see that working out for you."

It was Ratchet's turn to be confused -they seemed to be switching on and off that duty, now, "Blargian?" He frowned, fishing a map out of his back pockets, "But I should be at Station Epsilon... damned maps..." He scowled at the digital hologram map, clicking it off and throwing it to the ground.

Clank shook his head, "And there goes fifteen bolts. Nonetheless, I have given up my hunt for Captain Qwark for the moment after learning that there is an infobot here belonging to Drek's most trusted lieutenant."

"How did you learn that?"

Clank blinked impartially, "I overheard two Blargian soldiers gloating about how they stole the lieutenant's infobot in an attempt to discover where he is sending a series of incredibly sappy love letters," He placed a hand on his forehead, "Never mind that. It is unimportant. What IS important is securing that infobot. The soldier currently in possession of it is the head engineer of Transport Tram 17. Therefore, I will have to infiltrate the train and retrieve it."

"Wait. Isn't that dangerous?" Ratchet frowned, leaning up against a cargo crate, "I mean, won't it be crawling with Blargians who want you dead?"

The thought of that very much unnerved the Lombax. Clank was small and clearly not very strong. His main concern with letting him go off alone had been the robot's lack of ability to escape from those who would hunt him down, and that was more or less resolved by the helipack. But this was Clank going head to head with those brutes and Ratchet couldn't think of any way Clank could avoid them besides not being onto the tram, which he figured the robot wouldn't do. It was dawning on him, perhaps too late, that Clank's quest just might be impossible to accomplish solo.

Clank thought for a moment, "Well, yes, but what other choice is there?"

"At least," Ratchet paused, hesitating. Then shrugged off his own concern. What could it hurt to help him out a little more? "let me come with you."

"Are you certain about that?" Clank looked unsure at the proposal, "If I recall correctly, you are not exactly the Blargian's favorite person, either."

"I'll be fine. I've got a wrench, remember?" As if to prove a point, he materialized the beloved tool into his hand, giving a confident smirk as he twirled it professionally, "It's more than you've got, anyways. C'mon, take the help while you can get it, pal."

Clank still looked doubtful, but eventually nodded slowly. Consensus reached, Ratchet reattached Clank to his back and the two snuck deeper into the station, Clank keeping lookout on Ratchet's back as the Lombax himself sidled along the boxes, eventually spotting the transport -along with a good number of Blargian soldiers. He cringed, silently counting them, reaching twenty before he forced himself to stop. How was a Lombax with a wrench and an unarmed robot going to take on a trained army?

"Ratchet," He whispered, "Directly above you – a fire sprinkler. If we activate the alarm, the tram will be unable to leave the station. In addition to this, the Blargians will have to initiate emergency evacuation procedures. We will be able to board the train in the ensuing panic."

"Here's hopin'" The Lombax whispered, taking a quick moment to aim before sending his Omniwrench careening towards the sprinkler, knocking the top off. Water sprayed across the station, as a system wide alert set off the other sprinklers. An alarm sounded through the area and Blargians raced left and right to get into their coded lines. Ratchet took the opportunity to relocate himself and Clank into a conveniently open box, safe to watch the soldiers scramble out. A moment later, when the station was absolutely silent yet again, he pulled himself out of the container, checking quickly to make sure that the cost really was clear before ducking out across the platform and into the tram. Shortly after the two boarded, the door snapped shut behind them, and the tram started to move forward. First slowly, inch by inch, but slowly increasing in speed. It caught the Lombax off guard and off balance, though was not quite enough to send him to the floor.

"Clank?!" He exclaimed, shocked, "I thought you said this thing wouldn't run if there was a fire emergency!"

On his back, Clank gave a response that sounded slightly irked, "It appears that the Blargians have no respect for public fire safety code. This violation will most assuredly be appearing on their service record!"

"And you'll be the one reporting them?" Ratchet asked, not without a teasing tone, "Anyway, lets make our way up to the engine. That's where the infobot will be, right?"

"Hopefully."

Ratchet gave a frown at that, "Hopefully?" He waited for a response for a few moments, but Clank must have taken that as a rhetorical question because there was no reply. With a hint of annoyance to add to his already decreasing mood, Ratchet crept through the near empty cargo hold. The next train, which caused the Lombax to gasp and jump, was loaded with the same type of war bots they encountered on Novalis. They were deactivated, but it still made his heart skip a beat to see them again, especially in a place like Metropolis. Was Kerwan their next target? Surely not – the Galactic Rangers would most definitely notice an attack on the capital of the solar system. Or was Drek getting careless?

The next tram was a passenger tram. While it was devoid of passengers, there was quite a stockpile of weapons taking the seats of the Blargian soldiers. Ratchet whistled at the sight of them, removing a nearby pyrocitor with a grin. What a beauty!

"Ratchet, put that back!" The robot strapped to his back scolded.

Reluctantly, the Lombax replaced the weapon on top of the stockpile, "Alright, geez," He raised an eyebrow, "Well, at least we know why this thing took off, right? I mean, even if this wasn't illegal, the weapons in here have got to be worth millions in bolts. Makes sense to protect your investments – especially from the authorities coming to check up on that false alarm."

"Indeed," The robot replied simply, sounding contemplative. Each syllable fell off of his tongue as if the word itself was being dissected. Walking forward, the two made their way towards the next car, which Clank warned would be the engine room. Back against the wall and wrench at ready, the Lombax waited for a second... two... and then kicked the door open, HV cop style, and stepped forward, knocking out the conductor with one clean swipe of his wrench.

...or at least he would have, had there been any conductor to knock out.

Ears lowered in suspicion, Ratchet crept forward, at ready for anything that might approach them. Unfortunately for the poor infobot, 'anything' happened to include it, and it got within range of Ratchet's field of vision. Spooked, the Lombax quickly struck it with his wrench, knocking it against a nearby wall. He blinked in surprise, hearing Clank exclaim behind him and unlatch himself, running to the machine's aid. His antenna pulsated red as he looked it over, "You have done quite a number on this infobot. Memory bank capacity at 34%. Backup memory at 48%. And most of it is... ugh!" The robot reared away from the machine in shock. Ratchet tilted his head in curiosity, "Ah... never mind, it is not important. But there is... ah!" Clank grinned triumphantly, "An audio message. Initiating playback."

* * *

_Lt: Greetings, Executive Chairman Drek!_

_CD: Dispense with the pleasantries, lieutenant. My sources tell me you're behind schedule. You must prepare this planet to be harvested for our new world!_

_LT: Yes, sir. As you can see, everything is moving along, as planned._

_CD: I'm counting on you, Lieutenant. And as your former commander can tell you, I don't take disappointment well..._

_LT: Yes, sir! I won't fail._

* * *

The infobot shrunk in size, moving instinctively towards the member of the duo that did not bat its brains in. Clank took the little thing into his hands, resisting the urge to coo at it reassuringly. Instead, he simply smiled and placed it into his storage compartment with the others. Then, with a sterner expression, he turned to Ratchet, "The Chairman has initiated an attack on another planet," He paused, wondering how the Lombax would take his hypothesis, "This likely means that he is done with Novalis," Ratchet gave a short curse, looking down. His eyes were not visible, nor was his mouth, but his posture suggested he was holding back... something. Clank could not tell what, "I must hurry to find Captain Qwark and rescue this planet! The coordinates for Aridia are still good. I will head there next and attempt to find Captain Qwark before making a rescue attempt," He frowned, "Hopefully it will go better than Novalis."

"Yeah," Ratchet seemed distant. Clank wondered if he even knew what they had been talking about, "C'mon, I'll walk ya to your ship... as soon as this train stops," He scowled in annoyance, then turned completely and started playing with the controls before Clank could stop him, "I'll try to get this thing to stop at the next station, which is – ugh, you've gotta be kidding me," He groaned and Clank assumed the next stop, taking into account Ratchet's annoyance and the things that cause it, must have been Station Epsilon.

The robot made a short nod, looking back into the weapons cart. If he was going on his own, then it would be nice to be armed. Besides, technically he had the authorization to carry these weapons, as all robots from the Blargian army did. With a critical glance, he climbed onto a table and looked into one of the crates resting upon the seats. There was the pyrocitor, a blaster...

"_CLANK!_"

The robot was not sure quite why his name had been called, but understood a second later, dangling from the grips of a Blargian soldier. Judging from his outfit, most likely the conductor. Clank pondered, briefly, on the possible location of the man before he was tossed on an arch over the car, on his back. By the time his servos responded hoist him off the ground, he was staring down the barrel of a blaster. Having never been in this type of situation before, Clank did as any robot would do.

He froze.

The Blargian's eyes glinted with cruel delight. He cocked the blaster, aimed at Clank's head -and, as a result, his central processor- and... dropped the gun, falling to the ground as a weight fell on him. Ratchet had tackled the Blargian from behind, it seemed, and was currently wrestling with him, rolling on the ground as punches and kicks flew. It seemed Ratchet's wrench was not much help to him now. It was strapped to his waist, where it had been when Ratchet had begun hacking the controls. Clank could only watch in awe as Ratchet fought.

The train was slowing, Clank realized with a start. They were approaching the station and if they were still fighting like that, they could get in trouble. The very last thing Clank needed was to be arrested, and he was certain that a fight would result in just that. But he could not just run in there and break it up. He would certainly be torn to bits! And yet...

While Clank debated with himself, the train slowed to a stop. The sudden jarring of movement gave Ratchet, who had a better sense of balance than the soldier, the upper hand, climbing on top of him and delivering a swift punch to his face. And then another. And another. And then the doors opened, revealing a station full of people who turned and gasped at the unexpected sight of a young Lombax beating up on a Blargian soldier. He sensed the eyes of the people and looked up, slowly coming to the revelation of his own appearance. Damn it, it must look like HE was the bad guy!

"Ratchet-" Clank intercepted his thoughts, having completed his own internal debate. A security guard had seen the commotion and was calling for backup. They had to evacuate the area, and fast.

"I know!" The Lombax called, quickly pulling Clank onto his back. The robot counted a 0.879445 second improvement before they took off. Ratchet was also moving faster too, but was that because of their growing familiarity or because they were being chased.

Suddenly, the Lombax stopped, despite the rapidly approaching police, "Ratchet! What are you-?"

"Think we can make it?" The Lombax asked, breathless. In the area just below them, low and behold, was their vehicle. What luck, if such a thing existed. Clank did the math in his head, which took a mere second and a half. From this height, they COULD make it, but Ratchet would probably break a limb and he did not have the time to look for nanotech. On the other hand, his helipack might be able to support both of their weights for most of the distance. A brief rechecking of the numbers and...

"Yes," He answered sharply, "Jump! Before we get caught!"

Ratchet nodded, going over the edge with a dramatic scream. Clank timed their descent, and on the seventh second, activated his helipack and carefully landed them on the pad below. The robot was surprised to realize that, with the helipack in use, he possessed ascendancy of their movement. Yes, Ratchet could influence its direction, but he was in control over the timing of it. Incredible.

"C'mon!" Ratchet pulled open the hood of the vehicle, hopping in an unhooking Clank at the same time. He blinked as he was set into the co-pilot's seat, Ratchet himself taking the wheel. But... was Ratchet not...

"Stop! Get back here!"

...oh. Now he understood.

"My apologies, Ratchet," He spoke hurriedly, hoping to convey as quickly as possible how _sorry_ he was about this, "It appears that accepting your help has hindered your goal of living in Metropolis."

"What?" The Lombax asked, looking incredulous. He gave the robot a smile, but it was another fake one... one that was not embarrassed... it was... pained, perhaps? After having all your goals crushed in a few hours, he could not imagine anything else fitting, "Nah. Seriously, its fine. I didn't like Metropolis much anyways," His eyes darkened as he spoke, "Too many crowds."

The words did not stop the odd gnawing at Clank's core as they took off.

* * *

"_Uh... no, that's not Captain Qwark, you numbskull. It's just a robot dummy."_

"_...oh."_

Hmm...

"_Be warned: it is not an easy technique to master-"_

"_Eh. Doesn't sound so tough."_

Interesting...

"_You stole it!"_

"_Incorrect!"_

Captain Qwark frowned at the images surrounding him. Videos of all kinds. Of fighting and talking and walking and interviews and questions. And all of it starring Ratchet and Clank, the two new heroes to end up in Metropolis. The ones searching for him so meticulously.

He grinned.

"Well, won't this be interesting?" He asked the images on the screen, "You're certainly worth more than I gave you credit for, boys. Okay then," He leaned back, placing his arms behind his head, "Come and find me. I'll be waiting for you."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: OMG Captain Qwark cameo! (Squee)

No, seriously, this chapter I have mixed feelings about. The first half, with Al and the obstacle course? Awesome. The other half? Eh. It really helped that I came into this knowing exactly what I wanted to do for the first part... but forgot about the infobot 'til I replayed the level... so that's a thing. And about Ratchet and Clank almost splitting up... well, it didn't really fit my story to have them just stick together. So I made this up. Ratchet attempting to have a normal life!...he was doomed from the start. We all knew that. Also, maps. I HATE MAPS. Could never read them. It kinda shows in Ratchet, huh?

What did I do good on?: The whole 'Clank steals' thing. Yeah, I actually LIKE that. It may seem odd, but I don't think Clank's all that much a stickler for the law. Rather, he does what he believes is right, regardless of legalities. Yes, most times following the law is what is just, but I think Clank would be willing to go outside the law if it meant doing the right thing.

What did I fail on?: Hey, ya know what I just realized? Writing about platforming is boring.

Random Question for Reviewers: Does anyone else kinda wish you could wipe the smirk off of Helga's face? I certainly do...


	5. Aridia: Guilt

It was very much a surprise for Clank to hear Ratchet speak after leaving Metropolis. The entire flight he had been silent and introverted, gazing solemnly out into space. The advantage of this was that his eyes were always on their route and, consequently, his driving improved significantly. The disadvantage was this tension that was coiling within his own gears. He wanted a distracting conversation but could not start one, lest the internal stress begin to tighten and crush his inner mechanisms. It was a paradox, plain and simple. The entire ride was silent, with only the _bleeps_ and _boops_ of their ship keeping the quiet from being overwhelming. Clank didn't dare break it.

Only when they arrived at their destination, a small, desert planet by the name of Aridia, did Ratchet speak. His words were loud, unconcerned - in short, exactly what one would expect from the teenager, "Damn, this place is _disgusting_."

While true that the place lacked the appeal of Kerwan or Novalis, Clank would not go so far as to say it was disgusting. However, he could understand why Ratchet would think so: it was pretty much the polar opposite of the place he had grown up in. Sturdy warm rocks were replaced by unstable hot sand mounds. The rare speckles of greenery appeared to be overgrown weeds, where as on Kyzil the few plants that could grow looked natural. Kyzil Plateau was dry as a bone. This particular area - an old Galactic Ranger lookout station known as Outpost X11 - was covered in a swampy brown mud that Clank's scans indicated acted very much like quicksand. It was the polar opposite of the stable environment Ratchet grew up in. It made sense that it would be to his disliking.

Instead of addressing Ratchet's comment, Clank instead focused his scans on the distress signals left by the two escape pods, "The escape pod of Skid McMarxx is somewhere upon this island. His manager is somewhere on the other side of the Outpost. We... may have to go through it to reach him," He hesitated, slightly, as he thought. Certainly most of the defenses would be offline by now, but there was the off-chance that some of the old trappings still worked. Or it could have been overrun with native creatures. The sand shark, while typically burrowed in the ground, had two deadly sets of teeth; one for ripping its pray limb from limb, the other less sharp for carefully mixing the torn flesh with saliva for digestion purposes. A sand shark would attack anything that comes close to its nest, which Ratchet and Clank may very well have to.

Already, this was not looking good.

His words caught the Lombax's ear, making it perk up some, "Yeah? Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Let's look for Skid first. Maybe we'll get lucky for once and one of them will be able to call Qwark up. I doubt it, though. They don't run in the same circles."

Maybe so, but it was the only lead they had. And now there was even more at risk. The planet of Eudora was rich with trees and wild life; the section Drek had segmented, according to what little he could find on maps, was a small wildlife preservation area coated with natural resources. They had precious little time before the process of deplanetizing was completed. And then... it would be too late. They had no choice; Captain Qwark NEEDED to be found.

He added the time between taking Ratchet's hand and being attached to his back to a table he created and watched from the rear as they took off. Actually, the view from the Lombax's back was quite pleasant, once one got used to the unusual sense of inertia created by moving backwards constantly. Ratchet was moving slower than normal, he noted. Perhaps discomfort in his current environment? Or maybe what happened back in Metropolis was still affecting him?

That pressure within him began to tighten again. It might have been an unexpected glitch created by the helipack, but Clank was not going to complain about it. After all, the mechanism was so handy. To get rid of it because of a simple glitch would be shameful. But the tightness only really began after he had carried Ratchet's weight down to the ship. Maybe it was not designed to carry excess weight? Or maybe the distance was too great for that much weight? It should not have been. Clank had done the calculations. There had been no risks.

But if that was so, why did his insides constrict at the thought of their final moments on Kerwan?

They did not have to travel far to find Skid McMarxx. In fact, the only thing separating him from them was a rock overture that, fortunately, sealed Mr. McMarxx and his escape pod from a sand shark nest. Judging from the positioning of his pod and the damage done to it, Clank theorized that Mr. McMarxx crashed into the mountain at terminal velocity, smashing the nosecone of his escape pod inward a little bit, before bouncing it against the opposite side of the outcropping of stone, sending it sliding to the ground. Mr. McMarxx must have remained there alone until now.

Ratchet hesitated slightly as they saw the Rilgarian amidst the debris, while Clank unhooked from his back to stand next to him. Eventually, he crept closer, delaying his calling of, "Skid McMarxx?"

In response, Mr. McMarxx jumped away from the duo, eyes scanning them both before realizing that the sand sharks were not speaking to him and they were, in fact, real company, "Hey, yeah, that's me!" He grinned cockily, "So who are you two? A rescue party? Fans?" He cast a glance at Ratchet, "Fellow hoverboarders?"

"We are responding to the distress signal sent by your infobot," Clank answered neutrally, "We were hoping that, in exchange for our help, you would be willing to divulge information about Captain Qwark."

Skid McMarxx blinked at him blankly before nodding wildly, "Oh, yeah, sure! Like, I know Captain Qwark personally! We met that one time at that benefit and stuff!"

Clank leaned closer, eyes wide and eager for more information. Finally, they seemed to be getting somewhere! Ratchet, standing next to him, was more skeptical, "Uh-huh," He said, after a moment of thought, "And what's his first name?"

"Oh! It's, uh..." The Rilgarian frowned, scratching his head in puzzlement, "It's... no, I know this! It's on the tip of my tongue... uh... um... is it..." He scratched his head, before his confused expression faded into one of comprehension as he snapped his fingers, "Oh! I got it, dudes! It's Qwark!" Clank's expression dropped. Oh.

"I knew it," The Lombax spoke, a sour expression adorning his visage, "Look, we're still gonna get you out of here. We just wanted to see what kinda info you had."

The Rilgarian looked surprised, blinking. Clank used the time to do some quick calculations as to the proportions of their ship in relation to the size of two full-grown Rilgarians and frowned at the conclusion he came to. He spoke louder, so as to catch the attention of the two, "It seems we have run into a slight complication. Our ship is not large enough to carry the four of us at once. Even three would be a tight squeeze," He stroked his chin, "We may have to return to this planet in shifts in order to get everyone out of here," Then he frowned, "Assuming your manager is still alive, that is."

"He's fine," McMarxx assured him with a dismissing wave of his hand, "I just finished talking to the bastard," Skid frowned with crossed brows, and Clank inquired as to the source of his annoyance. The question caused a rant, "Oh, nothing much. Just a cheap, lousy, no-good manager getting us shot down 'cause of some lousy business deal. See, a while ago he tried to score me some deal endorsing some big time Blargian project, but the deal went south. So I told him to bail. But it turns out those Blargians didn't like that... they tracked us and shot us down. And it was all because that penny-pinching loud mouth just HAD to get us involved... ugh, I'm getting a new manager," He shook his head, "but don't worry about getting me off the planet. My ship has an auto-repair function, so I just need to get back to it. However, there is a slight problem..."

He looked ready to continue, but froze suddenly as a stray sand shark waddled past them, completely comfortable in the ever shifting environment. Ratchet watched it walk by with a critical expression, but didn't raise his wrench to attack. Skid McMarxx, on the other hand, froze stiff, watching the thing with wide eyes as he stayed as still as physically possible for organics. Clank watched in confusion; the stiff, frozen expression and posture almost looked silly. It was Ratchet who cleared up his bemusement, "Oh, come on! You're scared of a bunch of little sand sharks?"

He had every right to be, Clank thought but did not say. Of course, Ratchet was taller than him, so perhaps the perception was different. But then again, McMarxx was taller than both of them...

"No!" He rebutted, suddenly looking oddly defensive, "I just... have a sprained ankle," McMarxx then sat, showing the ankle in question.

A quick scan showed no inflamed tissue, nor any odd twists in his ankle bones. He was clearly faking. In order to call him out on his lie, Clank decided to play it naïve, "We could easily find you some nanotech in the Galactic Rangers base ahead," He bluffed, having no idea WHAT was in that old building, "It would only take a moment to search-"

"Ah, that's okay, little dude!" The Rilgarian spoke, more quickly than he had spoken previously, "Just clear out that nearby sand shark nest and I'll be golden," Ratchet's eyebrows were furrowed, and Clank thought he was going to argue, when Skid McMarxx sweetened the deal, "You do that, and I'll give you one of my hoverboards! Free of charge!"

The Lombax gaped, looking utterly stunned. Clank wondered, briefly, what caused the change, before Ratchet's expression faded to the one of mild contentment that usually occupied his face, "Alright," He spoke in his usual tone, "You just stay here and keep that foot elevated. We'll take care of that nest real quick-like."

The Rilgarian waved them off, grinning widely. He seemed pleased with himself. Ratchet, for some bizarre reason, also seemed pleased, even if it was not as evident as it was on Skid McMarxx. Clank, being reattached to Ratchet's back, asked about it as he logged the new time, which was the fastest of the ever increasing amount of numbers. Ratchet's tone shifted somewhat as he spoke, "Are you kidding? I've never had a real hoverboard before. Always wanted one," He took a brief look around, "How do you think we should clear out that nest?"

Clank hesitated in his response. This was wasting time, time that should be spent finding Captain Qwark! On the other hand, he was having the hardest of times trying to get the look on Ratchet's face as they'd fled Metropolis out of his mind. Well... he had ruined that for the Lombax. Why should he not let him earn something he had always wanted? "A simple smoke flare should convince them that this nest is an unsafe place to raise offspring. The sand sharks will burrow to the surface and flee the area. All you have to do is make sure you are not in their way. I suggest using a local plant to start the fire; if it is something they are not used to they might simply attack anything in sight."

"Sounds simple enough, "Ratchet replied, walking up to a nearby plant. Starting a fire with it took a significantly less time than Clank had thought. It seemed as though Ratchet had done this before... when he finished with the plant, it burned dimly, letting off a smoke that made Ratchet cover his face and hold the plant away from him, "Aw, damn. Whatever this stuff is, it packs a hell of a punch."

A quick analysis of the gas revealed it to be toxic. Well, that was an unpleasant surprise... "Just throw it into the nest, Ratchet," The Lombax quickly did as he was told. Seconds later, the desert area was overwhelmed with fleeing sand sharks, running in different directions in order to get away from the deadly gas billowing out of the hole. It was unpleasant, really, because Ratchet had miscalculated where they were going and had to jump out of the way before they could get stampeded. Some of the sand sharks fell into the mud, sinking quickly into it. Some ran off deeper into the island. Most just stumbled around awkwardly, moving further away from the nest and began burrowing for a new one. Well, it hardly mattered what they did. What mattered was that their task was complete.

Skid McMarxx's sprained ankle, in the meanwhile, seemed to have miraculously healed itself over the short period of time that the duo had been taking care of the sharks. He sprinted over with all the poise and skill that one would expect from a professional hoverboarder, "Aw, great! Ya took 'em out!" He waved for the two to follow as he raced past, "C'mon, dudes! I've got a hoverboard with your name on it waiting on my ship!"

Ratchet's ears perked up, and he followed with renewed vigor. He was stumbling a little as he walked, but quickly righted himself, moving as carefully as he could. The tension coiled around his innards again. This was his doing. He should have scanned the plant first, to make sure it was not toxic. At least Ratchet had not inhaled much of the gas, and it seemed to fade rapidly. He would be fine in mere moments. But he decided not to press his luck and climb onto Ratchet's back again. Not until the Lombax had completely recovered his balance.

When they reached the ship, Skid yanked open the main hull, fishing around in the wreckage until he found the hoverboard he had promised Ratchet. With a quick word of warning, he tossed the thing to Ratchet, who drank it in with the eyes of a dehydrated man. Who drank hoverboards, "A Z-3000?! Man, you can't even buy these! Thanks dude," He quickly hopped onto the contraption, hovering around in a circle before doing a mid-jump spin that caused both McMarxx and Clank to stare dumbly.

Either Ratchet had lied when he said he had never ridden one of these things before, or he was a natural with it.

"Dude!" The pro-hoverboarder behind him gushed, "You're, like, a natural! Here," He handed Ratchet a card, "I was supposed to be competing in the Blackwater City Tournament, but I think you need the publicity more than I do. See ya at the hoverboard races, man!" He then frowned, remembering something, "Oh, and if you see my manager, tell him that if he doesn't get here before the ship finishes repairing itself, I'm leaving without him. Oh, and he's fired."

With Skid McMarxx left behind, Clank turned to Ratchet, who was still staring at the card, "I thought you said you had never used a hoverboard before."

"Well..." The Lombax leaned against a rock, looking at him with a smug grin, "I used to have a skateboard when I was a kid. It's like a hoverboard, but it has wheels and doesn't fly," He frowned suddenly, "It got busted pretty bad, though. Haven't ridden since I was six. I honestly didn't think I'd remember how," His grin returned, "Guess you never forget, huh?"

Apparently not. Clank looked over the horizon, where his scanners told him the second pod had landed. The manager was still alive. It would not be very right to only save one of the two survivors, was it? He turned to Ratchet, "We still need to pass through Outpost X11 to reach Skid McMarxx's manager. If you wish," He was hesitant for a slight moment, "you may go back to the ship and wait for me. I will fetch him myself," Again, the paradox occurred to him. If he left Ratchet behind, then his speed would decrease. But he had already dragged the Lombax through so much... and the dangers within the Outpost itself... once again, Ratchet took it upon himself to make the choice for Clank.

"Don't count on it, pal," The hoverboard was fit awkwardly under his arm, "You wouldn't reach him in time. Nope, I'm coming too. Just as soon as we drop this thing off at the ship..."

* * *

The euphoria created by obtaining his first hoverboard lasted until they reached the ship.

Then the headache started. It was not a gradual or subtle development. A few steps away from the ship, after they had placed the new hoverboard inside of it, his head started throbbing violently. It was like his brain had swelled and was trying to break free of his skull. It was enough to make him gasp, stumbling backwards a bit and holding his aching cranium as if to still the pulsations occurring within it. Clank shifted on his back, most likely confused by Ratchet's uncoordinated movements.

"Ratchet? Are you alright?"

"Peachy," He replied, as believably as he could. It was hard to keep the bitter bite of pain out, though, "So how far is this Outpost X11?"

He didn't really need a reply, though. Once he could focus, he spotted the old fort nearby, built between islands. Yet, even despite being sunk to the bottom of the swamp, it still managed to tower over the duo. But all Ratchet could think about when he looked at it was how long it must have taken to sanction out all the icky mud required to build the fort. And thinking about that made his head pound even worse. A gloved hand was brought up to cradle the aching skull.

Getting inside proved to be nothing of a challenge, despite the fact that an elevator was required. All they had to do separate the elevator from the fort's power grid and rig up their own generator. Nothing so hard, especially with Clank's rechargeable battery cell to work with. The upper levels consisted of a series of catwalks, most of which looking incomplete. From his back, Ratchet overheard Clank theorize about the facility being incomplete. Whatever; he just wanted to find Skid's agent and be done with this place. The constant movement wasn't making his headache any easier.

To get the bottom required a series of short drops. It seemed that there was once a lift system used to traverse levels, but it was long gone now. Disabled when the Rangers left. Now only a series of half-completed ledges left in their wake. Every drop made Ratchet stumble as his brain thrashed around in his skull; every excess step made his limps feel heavy. Even Clank's previously unnoticeable weight was crushing against his spine. Reaching the bottom of this place was taking much too long for his liking.

The bottom floor was covered with... yay, more sand... along with some sand sharks. Most were just walking around cautiously, but one caught his attention. It was stumbling around dumbly, moaning and groaning and ramming its head repeatedly into the ground below it. Ratchet watched for a moment, and he felt Clank shift on his back so he could watch, too. Eventually, the thing simply curled up on the floor and started letting out pathetic whines. Eventually, Ratchet was prodded on by Clank, and the two left the thing there.

"I wonder if it was from the colony we burned out earlier," Clank mused aloud. Ratchet had no doubt that it was. Because that was just the kind of luck he had.

Venturing further into the base, they discovered the telecommunication wing of the base. It was the least constructed of all the areas they had visited, with haphazardly placed telecommunication orbs in place of actual flooring. Thankfully, though, they had a swingshot. The cable shot outward, quickly allowing the duo to fly over the missing sections of floor. The short bursts of flight made Ratchet wish he was back on the ground, walking. Swinging only seemed to further upset his already pounding head, in addition to making him dizzy. He could make out Clank speaking, but couldn't pinpoint his words. So instead, he just took a deep breath and kept swinging, hoping the faster it was over, the better.

That was a mistake.

Once he landed in the command center, the swelling combined with dizziness to tilt the environment at an angle. Ratchet tried to walk forward, to follow Clank - when did Clank disengage from his belt? - but while Clank had no problems walking over the slope, Ratchet's instinctive balance failed him for the first time in his life and he went stumbling down the incline and over the edge, vaguely hearing his name being called.

Luckily, there was a secondary platform just below him. His scrambling hands just barely managed to hold onto it but – was it really moving? Or was this just another illusion? No, it was definitely moving. Now that the dizziness was clearing up some, the headache was lessening slightly. Just enough for coherency to return. He could make out Clank's face peering over the edge and called up to him, "I'm fine! Really! Could ya help me get back up?"

"I will secure a telecommunication orb for you to swingshot to!" The robot shouted in return, voice calm and neutral despite the situation. It made Ratchet scowl, reminding him once again of the know-it-all doctor and her insistence on 'fixing' him. He didn't need to be fixed, dammit. Not from that stupid old woman and her emotionless stare and not from some stupid little robot-

What was he doing? He and Clank were on the same side! And wasn't it a good idea to stay calm in emergencies? Damn headache... it was getting harder to think straight.

His head cleared some, Ratchet crawled onto the platform, still slightly groggy and disoriented. It could take a while for Clank to get that orb. What sat upon the platform, though, made him raise his brow. A gun? No, the triggering mechanism wasn't quite right for that... it was sort of like the swingshot, only the thing was designed to let out non-lethal bursts of electronic pulses. Odd... maybe Clank would know what it is... speaking of Clank, there he was! Waiting on the edge of a platform, orb hovering above his head. With a single shot, Ratchet grappled up, meeting the little bot with a grin.

"Hey, check out what I found!" He presented the device proudly to the robot, who looked it over with a critical glance, antenna pulsing red. His eyes widened.

"Ratchet," He spoke, voice becoming a higher pitch for a mere moment before settling again, "I believe you have discovered a Trespasser. It is a device that will allow me to hack into any door using a Gadgetron X67 through X94 lock system. Observe," The device was snatched from his hands, and Clank positioned it carefully next to the door. The electronic device slotted into the keyhole perfectly, making a series of beeping sounds. Clank didn't seem to mind the noise, his antenna glowing as brightly as ever as he concentrated. Finally, the light dimmed and the door opened, leaving a still-neutral looking Clank, "It is not as hard as I thought it would be," He noted, before handing the device to Ratchet, "Just leave the hacking to me."

Ratchet rolled his eyes and continued forward. The passageway, it seemed, led to the other side of the bog. It was just as icky, muddy and covered in sand as the other side, but at least he wasn't going to fall into any pits out here, despite how his head complained. Finding Skid McMarxx's manager was a short matter of walking towards the tower of smoke coming from the other side of the island. Where as Skid had been shielded from the sand sharks, his manager had not been... but had not really needed to be. One particularly brave shark got closer to the Rilgarian attempting to work his comm unit. It sniffed at his foot before being violently kicked away and yelled at, scampering like a scared little dog. The loud yelp increased the pounding in Ratchet's head, making his ears droop uncomfortably against his shoulders. Behind him, he could hear Clank disengaging from his back.

"Sir?" Clank spoke, "Ah, sir-"

The robot was violently shushed in response. The Rilgarian held the comm unit close to his ear, waiting on bated breath... and then growled in annoyance and threw the thing to the ground, a little too close to Clank, who jumped back in surprise. Ratchet felt his annoyance growing. Already the man was amongst the many people on his list of idiots, and he was not in any mood for a fight. Meanwhile, the talent agent began talking, "Grr, this planet STINKS! No comm signals, no hotels, not even any clean water!"

Well, at least they could agree on ONE thing...

"Sir," Clank interrupted, "We are here to help get you to safety. Your ship's self-repair protocol has been activated, and Skid McMarxx is waiting for you," Ratchet nearly snorted at the line. Yeah, waiting to rip his head off, maybe, "If you are in need of any medical attention-"

He was interrupted by the agent, who scowled at them as if Clank had suggested swimming in that muck, "I'm fine, kid! My PROBLEM is my stupid ex-client! I had this whole business deal going great, then suddenly, he wants out. I don't like it, but I comply because hey, he's my star client, right? Then BAM! Shot down! When I get back to MY ship, I'm going to tell that brat that I QUIT! Gonna need a new client though..." His attention shot to Ratchet, who blinked in surprise,"You look like an athletic kid," He noted, "Handsome, too. How'd you like ta be a star?"

Ratchet's ears straightened in surprise. Him, a star? Hmm...

"Just bring me some proof that you can make it as... err," He shrugged, "a hoverboarder, a sportsplayer, and actor, whatever, and I'll see what _I_ can do for _you_!" He topped this off with a wink, "Here's my card, kid. You just call me when you have that proof. In the meanwhile, I'm gonna go make sure that idiot ex-client of mine hasn't made off with my ship yet," He sighed, "Lousy brat... can't even remember WHY I took him on in the first place. Not like he can actually do anything..."

Wow, Ratchet thought, verbal proof that Skid McMarxx is a hoax. Today hell hath frozen over. The two watched as the manager walked towards the muddy swamp water and, to their surprise, started walking through it with no apparent complications. He appeared on the other side moments later, completely fine despite the mud clinging to his clothes, not even looking back at the two as he walked towards his ship.

"Well," Clank spoke after a while, returning his attention to the Lombax, "Are you ever going to call him? I wonder; what kind of proof does he require?"

"Dunno," Ratchet shrugged, "But it would be nice if someone other than my backpack actually knew who I was. And, you know, didn't hate my guts," A thought occurred to him, and he pulled the card Skid gave him out of his back pocket. The two had set him up to reach hoverboarding fame, and they probably didn't even realize it. A sudden image flashed before his eyes: him, a star, surrounded by people who actually knew his name. Planning his own stunts and building his own equipment... it didn't sound so tough, in theory. He could totally handle being famous, "Well, one step at a time, I guess."

"This was a waste of time," Clank told him as he reattached to Ratchet's back, "We have not discovered anything about Captain Qwark's location."

Wow, Clank really was single-minded, wasn't he? Did he think of anything besides Qwark and Drek? The pounding in his head grew worse at the thought, so he let it go this time, "Ah, it wasn't all bad. I got a hoverboard and you got a... decryptor, or something."

"Trespasser," The robot corrected automatically, "And while these things may prove useful, they do not provide us on any insight into Drek's plans or Captain Qwark's location. Not to mention Eudora..." At that moment, he could have sworn that the robot had sighed, "The planet is going to be destroyed, and we have exhausted all of our leads."

The broken face of Novalis' Premier came to Ratchet's mind. He hadn't seen somebody that pathetically sad since... well... last year. And the people of Eudora were going to go through exactly the same thing... unless they could... "Clank," Ratchet spoke seriously, for perhaps the first time in his life, "What I'm about to say may sound crazy, but hear me out, okay?" The robot nodded, "I think we should tackle Eudora without Qwark."

Clank's eyes widened, "That would be impossible," He stated bluntly, "We got lucky on Novalis against those robots. We could not possibly take out a whole invasion force by ourselves."

"We totally can!" Ratchet argued, confident, "That LT didn't look so tough. All we have to do is take him out and cancel the invasion force! Simple enough, right? And we could probably find out more about Drek's plans..." Ratchet's tone was suggestive, as if offering this to the robot. Clank 'hmm'ed silently in thought.

After a moment, he spoke, "Perhaps we can... _persuade_ the lieutenant to give us the location of Drek's planet."

"Now you're talkin'!" Ratchet grinned widely, until a loud noise attracted their attention to the sky. The ears of the Lombax, still hypersensitive from the fading headache, folded in at the sound, increasing the pounding back to pre-outpost levels. This really wasn't his day... or his planet. The flaring sound of engines turned out to be the cause of his pain, as Skid McMarxx and his agent ascended into the sky. Ratchet looked up at it, shielding his eyes from the light. Judging from what each party told him, they were probably going to argue the whole way. Fine. Whatever. As long as he could get off of this annoying planet.

The trek back through Outpost X11 was less painful than the trek in. Mostly because, this time, he took it a little slower on the telecommunication orbs and took small breaks whenever he started to get dizzy. Fool him once... but anyways, they spotted the sand shark that had been crying earlier. Now it was just lying on the ground, curled up and asleep. Actually, that didn't look like a bad idea... _sleep tight, little guy..._

Ugh... his head still hurt...

Climbing up turned out to be less annoying than climbing down, and soon enough they were out. The trek back to the ship was impossibly long, and every inch of Ratchet was complaining by the time they got their courier vessel. To Clank's surprise, Ratchet pulled himself into the passenger's seat, curling into himself to try to sleep off this stupid headache...

"Ratchet?" The robot shook him awake. In his annoyance, Ratchet snapped at him, then sighed, shaking his head.

"Sorry, s'just... my head's pounding..."

The robot ran his eyes over Ratchet's form, antenna glowing, "You are not injured... unless..." His eyes widened, "It may have been that the plant's fumes are having an aftereffect... a hangover, of sorts."

"Really?" Ratchet groaned, turning so he did not have to look at the robot.

"Do not worry. I will get us to Eudora. You just... sleep this off," Well, that had been what he was planning to do... no thanks to you, robot... Ratchet sighed, allowing the pull of sleep to drag him into the land of naught. Had he even been the slightest bit coherent, he might have noticed Clank's shimmering eyes resting on his form, or the way they darkened in thought before he returned his attention to the ship.

* * *

His planet was fifty-five percent complete.

It was big enough to eclipse this solar system's sun, leaving only a small fraction vacant. Eudora had been mighty... charitable... in their 'donation' of trees and other oxygen-providing plants. They hadn't even had to destroy it! But... just because they didn't have to... doesn't mean they shouldn't. After all, there might be survivors down there to tell of this 'attack'. And that would be... unfortunate.

He first contacted the fleet commander, telling him, briefly, that they were done, and to tow the planet to its next destination.

His second call was to his lieutenant on the planet. The large -dare he say it, obese?- robot saluted him, "Sir," he reported, monotonously, "My team has finished their tree quota."

"Barely," The Blargian leader droned. The LT actually looked scared, like he might have wet himself, had he been organic. But as amusing as the thought was, his attention was required on another matter, "Now, listen, LT. Your team has a new objective: you are not to harvest, but to DESTROY everything within the sectioned off part of the planet. Especially if it can talk. Understood?"

Eager to prove himself, the Lieutenant saluted, "Yes, sir. We won't fail you!"

Switching off the comm unit, Chairman Drek moved to observe his planet one more time. Despite the loose end of the Lombax and the Defect (which would be rectified, if his new spokesman valued their position), his plan was going perfectly. All that was left was to find an orbit for his new home.

And then the real fun could begin...

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: So... imagine doing Ratchet's job with a hangover... yikes.

This chapter both deviates heavily from the original Aridia... and yet somehow still doesn't seem all that changed for me... I don't know why. I guess I don't like this planet very much. I had to invent some ways to keep me invested in the chapter, so that I didn't accidentally screw up the whole chapter. Like the hangover thing. That one just came to me. I'd also imagine Ratchet disliking swampy and watery areas... hehe, Blackwater City is gonna be fun...

What did I do good on?: I actually like the Drek segment near the end. He's not so much of a sadist in this version... granted, he is a sadist, but he's more concerned with the project.

What did I fail on?: I tried to describe guilt to the best of my abilities without actually using the word guilt. In Clank's sections, since I can describe what he's feeling, it's a bit easier. In Ratchet's section, near the end of it, it sounds more like Clank's being a creeper...

Random Question for Reviewers: Paper or plastic?


	6. Eudora: Luck

When consciousness returned to Ratchet, the pounding in his head was borderline nonexistent; reduced to an uncomfortable but hardly noteworthy throb by the mere act of resting. It seemed to have done wonders for the rest of his body as well; he hadn't realized just how much he'd been aching until the subtle pain was suddenly gone. Or lessened, rather, but that was chalked up mostly to the exhaustion still present in his form. Damn it, either he hadn't slept in days or whatever that stuff was incredibly potent. Probably both.

"Ah, you are awake," Clank greeted in his typical tone of detachment, "I was beginning to wonder if I should perhaps take you to some sort of medical institution."

The words made Ratchet stiffen. Hospitals meant doctors. And doctors he would rather not associate with anytime soon. With some struggle to keep his voice calm, the Lombax replied a little too quickly, "Well, as you can see, I'm fine. No need for any doctors," He took a brief look out the viewport, "We there yet?"

"ETA: 3.561354578193456185304 minutes. Rounded down," It was hard not to wince as the robot droned on, listing the numbers methodically as they appeared in their mind. If there was one thing Ratchet could ever envy about a robot, it was the photographic memories they seemed to have. The thought of having to announce that many numbers himself, even if he didn't have to memorize him, made his head ache again. Putting a halt on that train of thought, Ratchet shortly looked out the window at the numbers of stars in the distance.

As the driver, he hadn't had the chance to simply stare out into space and numbly enjoy what he'd been longing to get to for so long. It felt... bittersweet. Here he was, finally free of Veldin... but what was there to do? His first, immediate goal had been to settle down, but it wasn't that simple; Drek and Clank had both, in their own ways, made it impossible for him to do so. But hey, it was still better than Veldin. And he'd be lying if he said there wasn't some sort of abstract pleasure in this bizarre little quest of theirs.

"We are approaching planet Eudora," Clank was suddenly moving rapidly, flicking switches and adjusting settings on all sides of the dashboard, "A word of warning: you might want to hold onto something. It is highly likely that we will encounter resistance in the form of Drek's armada. Exiting hyperspace in five... four..." Ratchet grasped the dashboard, glaring ahead in determination. Whatever happened, he had to be ready, "three... two... one!"

The ship slowed to a near halt, moving forward only by the remnants of its own inertia. Whatever Ratchet had thought would happen, whatever bad situation... he hadn't at all expected the blank space surrounding the planet. Eudora certainly didn't look like it was under attack. In fact, it looked almost... normal.

"There!" Clank suddenly shouted, taking one hand off the steering mechanism to point towards a small-to-medium sized ship, "A Blargian vessel! Their work camp cannot be too far off," His green eyes then followed the ship down to the planet's surface, "I will take the ship down to where the infobot's coordinates lead us."

"You're not at all wondering WHY there isn't any fleet?" Ratchet asked, feeling a bit sour. It was relief more than anything, though; he really didn't want to have to lose another ship.

The robot blinked, "I assumed that we have arrived before deplanetization could completed. There is no need for the fleet or the planet to be here if they are not ready for them," It kind of made sense, Ratchet mused, but something still felt wrong. Novalis had been under siege for days, from what he could gather, and the entire fleet had been there. Clank had been right; they got off of Novalis through sheer luck.

To Ratchet's displeasure, Clank brought the ship down real nice and easy, with no complications whatsoever. This was so unfair. The universe must hate him. The ship landed with a gentle touchdown, and Ratchet wasted no time, hopping out of the vehicle with his wrench in hand.

The encampment wasn't fortified in the slightest bit. The automatic defenses were off. The tents were down. The campfire in the center of the grounds had long since been put out. There was nobody here, and nothing left; no weapons, no nothing. The silence of the area, matched with the barren surroundings, made Ratchet's gut curl into a knot. They didn't make it. They were too late.

"Ratchet, get down!" To the Lombax's surprise, he was pulled back behind the ship by Clank, who held firm to his arm as if he would run into the open if the robot let go, "Over there: two transport ships," Following the robot's finger, Ratchet found two ships coming back into camp, each with a piece of lumber nestled between its long claws. They flew over the heroes' heads, missing the two intruders in their single-minded quest to deliver the logs so they could go back for more. Thankfully, any sensory equipment the robots had did not pick up on the duo of infiltrators. Ratchet emerged from his hiding spot, watching the direction they went off in and focused. Now that he had an idea what he was looking for, he could faintly hear a short buzzing in the distance. They weren't too late; they'd just arrived in the middle of the workday.

How lucky was that?

"Ratchet, come take a look at this," The Lombax moved away from his lookout position, finding Clank staring harshly at the door of what could only be the main compound, "My sensors indicate massive computing technology behind these doors. I theorize that this is the central control for those drones we saw. If we take out the computer controlling them, the drones will crash. Better still, I am certain that I can reprogram them to take restorative measures within the programmed area. They will work to fix the environment they've ruined. It will not be the same... but it is the best I can do."

"That's more than most people would do," The Lombax pointed out, leaning against the door. He took a moment, gathering his strength completely into his forearms, then pushed against the solid steel doorway. Nothing. Not even a budge, "Okay, we're not getting in this way. Any other routes?"

"There is an emergency exit in the rear. If we can maneuver through the mountains... that way," Clank turned, pointing in the direction of another compound; smaller, but just as solid as the one behind them. For supplies, if Ratchet had to guess, "then we may be able to reach it," Ratchet nodded, reaching out a hand for Clank to take, and was surprised when he refused, avoiding his outstretched palm and walking towards the compound himself, "That is quite alright, Ratchet. I am perfectly capable of walking myself."

The Lombax gaped at the robot as he moved on. Damn it, he was so _slow_. If he walked, then the time they'd waste a lot of time getting over there. And the helipack, while useful, wasn't exactly capable of reaching every height. Why would he want to start walking now after being on the Lombax's back for so long? "Clank..."

"I mean it," The robot paused and spun around. His eyes were narrowed in an imitation of the glare Ratchet wore when he was annoyed, which he realized Clank must have seen a lot, "The servos in my legs are perfectly functional. I do not need to be carried around everywhere like an invalid."

An invalid? Ratchet tilted his head and watched as the robot made his way towards the opposite side of the compound. He wasn't even half way there yet, the Lombax noticed. Surely, he knew that it was more convenient and time-conserving for him to ride on Ratchet's back. He was relatively smart, perhaps the smartest person Ratchet had ever met. He must have known that not accepting help would only slow them down, didn't he? Or was this a result of what happened back on Metropolis?

The Lombax had to think fast, or they might not be done before the workers come back.

It was a split-second decision, and one he usually wouldn't make. But after taking a moment to make sure Clank wasn't looking, he threw himself off the small platform, wincing as he landed face-first in the ground. Ow. He'd forgotten how badly face-planting hurt. But it seemed to do the trick; Clank had noticed the fall and was rushing back, moving only the slightest bit faster as he ran. Ratchet picked himself, examining his nose with gentle fingers. Good, he didn't break anything. That would've been bad. Clank was by his side now, examining him curiously, then nodding as he stated, "Good. You are unharmed."

He could tell that just by looking at the Lombax? ...Oh, right. Internal scanner, "Yeah, I'm fine. Good thing I just fell off this platform and not one of those cliffs," He faked a cringe at the thought, "I mean, if that happened I'd be dead. I'd just fall really fast and hit the ground. Splat," He risked a peek at Clank, who was merely staring at him unresponsively. Trying to suppress a groan at the lack of emotion, he continued to hit the nail on the head, "And then you'd be all on your own, with nobody to help you... and I'd, well, be dead. So... yeah..." It was hard to resist the urge to sigh. Clank, apparently, hadn't gotten the oh so subtle hints. If he didn't comprehend the invitation, then it wasn't worth it.

Just as Ratchet began moving away, however, Clank spoke up, voice methodical and even, "I... do believe it would be a good idea if I remained on your back. For emergency purposes, of course."

"Of course. Good idea," Ratchet grinned, taking the robot by the hand and fitting him onto his bolt harness. The quickly-becoming-familiar _click_ signaled for Ratchet to let go. Victory, "Now, which direction were we heading in?"

"To your right, Ratchet," The Lombax nodded, heading towards the supply compound. This one was sealed as well, but it was a lower-grade lock -a Gadgetron X75 lock system- and they were easily able to pick through it with the Trespasser. Aridia wasn't such a waste of time now, was it? Ratchet questioned internally as Clank interfaced with the device. He'd never understood how that worked, interfacing. Robots were just weird, he supposed.

The door snapped open, quite suddenly, and Ratchet disengaged the Trespasser and took note of the lack of provisions. Either these guys were in desperate need of a supply drop or they were planning to get the heck out of dodge and soon. Either way, they were running out of time.

"Follow the pathway forward," Clank directed from his position on Ratchet's back, "It will curve eventually and lead us straight to the emergency exit of the control center," Ratchet gave a short nod, not really caring if Clank understood his response, and marched forwards for a ways until he caught sight of the 'curve' Clank had mentioned. This so-called bend in the road was in fact a round outcropping of stone; a canyon that went straight to the bottom of the mountain range. Ratchet cursed silently. Of course it wouldn't be that simple. And didn't Clank's whatever-it-was-that-allowed-him-to-see-ahead-of-them know the meaning of the word 'depth'? Ratchet skimmed the area for an alternate route, but only spotted a single landing on the opposite side.

With a sigh, he asked, "Clank, you think we can glide across?"

"One moment," The robot stated, then there was a moment of silence. Then, "Yes, I believe we can. But it will be close."

"Then brace yourself," With this final warning, Ratchet made the leap, heart beginning to pound as his feet left the solid ground and he flew aimlessly in the air. He did one final mid-air flip, to increase their height, then left the rest to Clank. Certainly enough, their drop slowed and the very audible sound of Clank's propellers do their work. Staring at their destination and doing all he could do not to move was the only way to ensure that he didn't jerk them around in an attempt to move them closer to the intended target. It was weird, putting all his weight into the hands of this little robot, but he had to just _relax_. It was the only way. Still, Ratchet held his breath and did not release it until his feet collided clumsily with the ground of the small cliff.

Shaky feet took a moment to balance before Ratchet felt confident walking again. There was another cliff to the immediate right, and Ratchet quickly assessed the distance before rushing to jump it. As he did so, he spoke, "See? That would've been really bad if you hadn't been on my back."

"I suppose..." The voice of the little 'bot was muffled; his ire was still quite noticeable. Whatever had made him so determined to go off on his own earlier wasn't completely gone, to Ratchet's displeasure. There had to be something he could do about this...

They were stuck. Half-way down the canyon, still a ways away from their destination, and they were stuck. This was the icing on the cake. Now the planet was going to get destroyed, and they were going to be stuck on it. Logically, there was nobody to blame, but Ratchet directed his annoyance towards a passing carrier vessel, launching his wrench at it and watching as it neatly cut through the cheap, thin membrane that passed for Blargian armor plating and causing a small explosion. It didn't do anything to help, but watching the explosion was just the slightest bit calming.

A gentle hum echoed through the canyon, but it took Ratchet a moment to realize it was coming from Clank. He couldn't see the robot very well when Clank was situated on his back, however he did catch a glimpse of the pulsating red light on his head. After a moment the gentle sound died down, "There is another outcropping up ahead, slightly above us. I will see if I can redirect some telecommunication orbs for us to use," The humming picked up again, but this time it produced visible results. Several telecommunication orbs, most likely the ones being used by the Blargian encampment they'd gone through.

"Okay," Ratchet relented, watching the orbs float into the perfect positions for him to swing his way to the cliff Clank had noticed, "That was pretty cool. That how you got that orb on Aridia?" He didn't wait for a response, "Pretty handy."

"Interfacing is a common skill amongst intelligent robots," The indifferent voice rang out, "An infobot can do it, if it is programmed with the ability to."

There was something wrong with this robot, Ratchet thought. Aloud, he worded it differently, "Geez, can't you take a compliment?"

"I am just being honest. Did you not say that was a good thing?" At this point, Ratchet was on the cliff. While he was higher up, the incline made it almost impossible to climb. Clank, having apparently noticed this, directed a few mining platforms for the organic to use, "Just one moment... there, the last one is in place. But at any rate, it is not like interfacing alone is going to stop Drek. This is why I wanted to find Captain Qwark first," Ratchet's ears perked up; his movement on the platforms slowed to a halt. Was there a touch of sadness in Clank's voice right then, or was that Ratchet's imagination? "If we run into any larger enemies, we are doomed."

Funny how the words 'we are doomed' contained almost no emotion. Even funnier still was the shear lack of the sense that was in the normally logical robot's words. They were doing just fine now, without Qwark. It was probably just Clank's single-minded nature again, but there was a touch of annoyance – just once, couldn't he be good enough?

"One moment. I will call upon one final telecommunication orb..." Surely enough, within the second a green orb floated around the building and positioned itself right in front of the door. From there, it was just a simple swingshot and... there! Ratchet gave a confident smirk, even if he knew the robot couldn't see it. Well, that was fun. What next?

He felt Clank disengage from his bolt harness and frowned, "Hey, what are ya doing?"

"It may take time for me to hack into and correct these robots' thought patterns," Clank stated neutrally, "Our odds of success improve by a significant margin if I go in alone and you stay here and stand guard. Just in case anyone else tries to enter the compound. Can you do that?"

"Can a GX-12 Thermal Pipe vent heat exhaust of up to 18% without external assistance?" At Clank's blank look, Ratchet sheepishly backtracked, "Eh, never mind. You go do your thing, I'll wait out here."

One nod from the robot, and he was gone. The first thing Ratchet did was look around, noting the possible areas enemies could come from. The second thing he did was look back into the small compound, watching Clank as the small robot approached a console situated against a wall. Leaning against the door frame, Ratchet turned into a comfortable position from which he was easily able to watch both Clank and the open field. And that was the point where the front door opened.

It was quite a surprise to see the large lieutenant in person. He was just as massive as he appeared to be on the infobot; in fact, he seemed even more so live. The cigar in his mouth waggled slightly, almost dropping from his mouth as he spotted the intruders. Or rather, intruder. He hadn't noticed Ratchet yet, too focused on the small bot messing with the computer. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he started towards Clank, hands poised to grab. Thankfully Clank also noticed the large bot and was... posing to fight? What was he doing?

No, Ratchet thought, cursing the little bot, you're gonna get yourself killed! Without thinking, he rushed forward, wrench in hand. It was at this point the lieutenant spotted him and froze. He was a robot and, like any robot not equipped to handle a Lombax rushing towards them, couldn't process the proper response to the situation. Unlike most robots, however, he came up with a viable solution rather quickly: turning tail and running. A logical one, Ratchet supposed. This wouldn't have been his first fight with a larger opponent, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last.

You know, if a fight had actually happened.

From the way Clank was reeling back, he obviously hadn't expected the response. Ratchet started to call out to him, then stopped. Why not have a little fun with this? Grinning, he placed the wrench in its holster and ran up, trying his best to not just grin stupidly and burst into laughter. He was surprised at how genuinely concerned he managed to sound when he asked, "You alright?"

"Affirmative," Was the response, sounding too stoic even for Clank. Shock, probably.

Allowing a light grin to appear, Ratchet knelled down and placed a hand on Clank's shoulder. The unexpected movement caused the 'bot to look up at him, "You sure showed him."

"I did?" Clank's head tilted slightly to one side.

Ratchet nodded, "Well, yeah! Did you see him running off like that? So hardcore," The hardest part of the whole thing was keeping his voice calm, "See, I told you we could do this, didn't I?"

It might have just been the light, but Clank actually looked... happy. Not just mildly please, but elated, "I suppose you did. Perhaps we can do this," Mirth fading from his expression, Clank walked back up to the computer, "but at any rate, I must complete this rewrite. It will only take a few moments... would it be bad if I reprogrammed them to round up the remaining Blargians as well?"

"As long they're not on Eudora anymore," Was the neutral response of the Lombax.

Nodding, Clank went back to work, tapping the keys at a frantic pace. He seemed to have forgotten – or was in a good enough mood to ignore – the fact that Ratchet was supposed to be keeping guard. Ah, well. He was certain they were almost done, anyways. One more beep, and then Clank announced, "It is complete. Reprogramming to take place in t-minus fifteen minutes... oh! There is a video message on here, forwarded from one of Chairman Drek's assistants. Shall I commence playback?"

"Do it," Ratchet gave a nod, moving to view the full screen comfortably. The video faded in, showing a small Solanian struggling to move a wrench twice his size. Ratchet rolled his eyes; even a wrench of that size wasn't terribly heavy, if you knew how to position it. This buffoon clearly did not. There was no surprise value when the guy accidentally sprayed his face with... gook.

"_Is your current occupation leaving a rotten taste in your mouth?"_ Clank gasped, then leaned over and whispered discreetly that the voice belonged to Chairman Drek. The commercial now had both of their full attention.

Certainly enough, soon the screen switched to a large glass room with a clear view of space. The Blargian Chairman was standing in the center, looking far more polite than Ratchet had recalled him appearing the only other time he had seen the Chairman – on a video announcing to a planet that he was going to destroy them.

And then he spoke, _"Then you need to know about BTS – Blarg Tactical Research Station. Hi, I'm Supreme Executive Chairman Drek,"_ Ratchet rolled his eyes at the title. Yet another self-interested big shot. Yawn, _"and we here at BTS are seeking motivated individuals to fill positions in these exciting careers. Grind Boot tester, warhead assembly technician.."_

Drek had, for the most part, lost Ratchet's attention when he mentioned Grind Boots. He'd heard about those... supposedly, they were used by Blargians to move around their cities, having abandoned hovercars and other pollution-creating technology in an effort to revitalize their world. Not that it did any good, if Drek's plan was any indication.

The scene changed, showing a man holding a chicken out nervously to some kind of creature. Ratchet cringed as it then proceeded to eat its handler instead of the chicken. Clank appeared unaffected, as always.

"_...mutant animal husbandry, robot repairman..."_

The video changed again, showing two idiots playing around with... something. Ratchet wasn't quite sure what it was until it sucked the both of them inside. Ratchet winced again when one of them got sucked into the device. Now he sort of recognized it: the device had a suction that could sweep up small life forms, if used properly. Ratchet gave a glance to Clank. He was smaller than even the man in the commercial...

"_...suck cannon test dummy, administrative assistant..."_

Ratchet decided they would avoid people with suck cannons.

"_So call BTS! Build our weapons while you build your future!"_

The Solanian grinned at the camera, his face covered with muck, as he said with conviction, _"I'm calling BTS today!"_ The entire scene was sad. Ratchet shook his head and added yet another idiot to his ever-growing list of stupid people he hated. It was getting rather large, actually.

...but that BTS place... the Blargians developed weapons there, didn't they? Sounded like a nice place for a raid...

"No," Clank told him, as if he could read Ratchet's thoughts, "We have to continue searching for Captain Qwark."

Ratchet's first instinct was to fight the 'bot, but that would be a bit of a hassle. Instead, he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, "You are absolutely right."

"I am?" Clank looked thoroughly baffled.

"Course you are. Finding Qwark takes priority," He gave a grin that he hoped was charismatic but, knowing his luck, probably looked stupid, "But our second priority is finding Drek, isn't it? And it'd be SO much easier for everyone if we could just tell the Captain where Drek is, right?"

Clank looked skeptical, "Right..."

"Those scientists must report directly to Drek," This one was a bluff on his part. He had no idea. So instead he tried to justify it, "I mean, they handle the Blargians' technological advances, right? Who else would Drek trust with that Intel other than himself? So they've got to know SOMETHING about Drek."

"How did you arrive to this conclusion?" Clank asked, not without a hint of suspicion Ratchet waved him off.

"Well, you got any better ideas?" After a short period of silence, he continued, "Thought not. Now let's get moving. The tech there has got to be state-of-the-art..."

A sudden tugging at his glove had him looking down, "Wait, is that why you want to head there?"

Keeping his straightest face, Ratchet answered curtly, "No. Now, c'mon! The faster we move the more likely we'll learn something!"

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: So... yeah, no suck cannon- (Gets pelted by tomatoes)

Let me explain! Please! Ugh, I hate raw tomatoes... anyways, I need you guys to see this from my perspective: what the hell am I going to do with a suck cannon? It's not required to finish the game. I don't even really remember using it 'cause its not incredibly useful. Why would I go out of my way to write about Ratchet and Clank obtaining it? It doesn't make sense from a plot-centric point of view. Writing this adaptation requires me to focus on the story and veto as much of the game play as I can, or replace it with conversation or spice it up with things like hangovers. But the suck cannon isn't practical. I can't really think of a situation where it'd be useful. And that's why Carpe Diem includes no suck cannon. Thank you. Any other complaints?

Oh, did I forget a Trespasser door? My bad. (Really. I forgot it and I don't wanna shift things around to write it in. Ya know, plot stuff.)

Oh, yeah, and its short. Stop nitpicking the length and be happy I decided not to write 306 pages on the entire planet and every excruciating detail from the blades of grass to the exact detail of the Lieutenant.

'Interfacing' is my way of getting around bolt cranks, which really aren't very sensible. It kinda works like a radio; computers are built into some objects to allow robots with knowledge of wireless hacking to log into them and direct them as they please. Yet another advantage of being a robot. Some have special firewalls that only certain robots can get past.

...MASS EFFECT REFERENCE!

What did I do good on?: Clank is adorably naïve, isn't he? He's lucky Ratchet's not gonna coerce him into evil doing... well, yet anyways.

What did I fail on?: This entire chapter was from Ratchet's POV. I... don't know why I did that, considering that one lightning planet is gonna be written similarly but... oh well.

Random Question for Reviewers: Okay, ya see that thing up at the top of the page? Next to the summary? Yeah, that's a nice pic, isn't it? …of course it's not! I need a new avatar, peoples, and I need YOUR help to make it! ...oh no, I don't want you to make one for me! I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself. I need IDEAS. Something that captures my writing nature. Any thoughts?


	7. Blargian Tactical Station: Humor

All throughout the large, gray corridors, only one sound persistently echoed. Clank. Clank Clank. A sharp sound created when a metal object hits another metal object. In this particular case, it was the sound of metal feet hitting a metal floor as they were forced forward. The clanks occurred at regular intervals, interrupted only when the metal feet stumbled. The metal feet stumbled only when their owner was set off balance by one of the guards surrounding him. This was often, as the so-called escort consisted of a lot of pushing and shoving, courtesy of the five Blargians required to escort the large robot.

The walk from his cell to their destination was not a particularly long one, but it most certainly felt like it to the 'bot. He trudged along as slowly as he could; hence why his Blargian escorts felt the need to prod him along violently. When they finally, finally came to the large set of doors at the end of the hall, he shut his optics tight, knowing that when it did open, every eye would be on him. The last thing he wanted was to see that. He kept his eyes closed as he was forcibly marched through the chamber, missing the harsh, critical glares of his peers and the surprisingly calm stare of the judge. He missed the specially large chair sitting on the defense's side and the cameras situated in the back of the chamber, transmitting to every Blargian holovision set via channel 492.

The judge looked on with only minor disapproval as he vocalized, "Lieutenant, you are charged with the desertion of your post and your men, allowing Blargian military technology to fall into the hands of the enemy and failing in your duty to the Blargian militia. How do you plead?"

The Lieutenant finally dared to open his eyes, risking a peek at the judge. With a voice that was only somewhat meek, he said aloud, "Not guilty, sir."

Federal Head of the Judiciary and Supreme Executive Chairman Drek matched his nervous eyes with ones full of sadistic delight, "Well, then. This will be fun. Let the trial begin!" And with that, the gavel was brought down heavily on the wooden stand he was sitting upon.

"_Alert: Your ship's registry does not have the required security clearance for landing. Please submit the security code in the next sixty seconds or your vehicle will be vaporized."_

"Well," Clank blinked, "This is unexpected."

Judging from the dry look Ratchet sent his way, Clank was pretty sure he had just stated this obvious. But really, what else could he have said? Turning back was not an option when they had no other ideas. And, really, Ratchet had been right about this station. Just looking at it roused within him intelligence, quite like when he had informed Ratchet of the technique known as kick jumping. The Blargian Tactical Station was where most, if not all, major scientific developments for the Blargians were made. This was where the supercomputer who manufactured security droids for the Blargians was born. The station was composed of four major wings: biology, computer and AI development, weapon development and engineering. Each wing a board six head scientist, with an entire hierarchy of lesser scientists to command.

More importantly, the information included an invention design he was required to obtain, called a hydrodisplacer, and a forty-nine digit security code to disable the defenses.

"Clank?" Ratchet raised a brow as the robot began typing away at the dashboard furiously. They didn't have much time to figure this out or get away. Did Clank think he could hack the system or something? But he wasn't using the Trespasser. No, instead his fingers were flying haphazardly across the keyboard, each stroke causing his movements to go that much faster. It was impressive, especially considering how slow he was on his feet. All the while he was watching this, though, the countdown of seconds was still on his mind. They were down to twenty-two, and it was continuing to trickle down at a continuous rate. Twenty-one, twenty...

"Done," Clank stated, finger tapping the send button once. A second later, their ship's comm unit beeped, warning of an incoming message.

"_Security code accepted. Have a pleasant day."_

The robot grinned for a fraction of a second – or maybe it was a trick of the light – before turning to Ratchet with a neutral expression, "We have clearance to land in the central loading bay. Please enter dock one, open there," Clank took a moment to point out the open hanger. Ratchet gave a short nod and pulled in slowly, double-checking to make sure he'd reached a suitable landing speed before deactivating the controls. X Axis. Z Axis. Land carefully. Then Y Axis. Heh, this flying stuff turned out to be pretty easy once Ratchet had gotten the hang of it.

The landing bay thoroughly impressed Ratchet. Or at least, impressed him enough to raise an eyebrow. It was small, just barely big enough for the ship to maneuver around in. They were surrounded by computing devices and some other machinery that Ratchet couldn't see the purpose for. Clank was less impressed, having already had an idea of what the hanger would look like going into it. He did, however, take note of the security precautions inside and outside of the facility. He was lucky to have remembered what the security code was when he had.

According to his internal schematics, the device he was to locate had been stored to the left of where they had landed. Just as Clank went to walk that way, however, Ratchet began moving in the opposite direction. Ratchet realized Clank wasn't following him around the same time and looked back towards the robot.

"Er," With a tilt of his head, Ratchet pointed behind him, "I thought we were going this way..."

"According to the station's schematics, we should go in this direction."

There were SO many questions prompted by that statement. Why were they going that way? Where and when did he get schematics to this place? If he knew the station's schematics, then what laid in the path ahead of them? But Ratchet was still Ratchet, no matter how curious he was, so he pushed his inquisition to the back of his mind and followed Clank, stopping short of the door.

"Clank, we can't go that way," Ratchet made his voice loud, so the robot was sure to hear him. Somewhat confused, Clank stopped mere millicubits away from the door to stare back at the Lombax. Ratchet, in return, pointed to the neat lettering above the door, "That's an airlock. I know you're a robot and everything, so this doesn't really apply to you, but I can't breathe in space!"

Breathe? Oh, right, that thing that organics had to do to keep themselves oxygenated. In truth, Clank had known that this had been an airlock, but failed to recall the fact that Ratchet required a healthy breath full of O2 every few seconds in order to function properly. How that had slipped his mind was beyond him.

His disappointed was not lost on Ratchet. After having built up the robot on Eudora, he felt inclined to keep his self-esteem high, if just for the moment, "Hey, maybe there's another route or something-"

"Negative," The robot reported in a dispassionate tone, "the area that I want to get to can only be accessed through here. Actually, I believe that area also lacks oxygen. However..." Clank hesitated; his idea would solve their current dilemma, but it was not something they'd tried before. However, it would increase their efficiency. The pros outweighed the cons, so Clank announced, "I believe that we should disjoin our orthodox method of travel for a small period of time in order to further explore the vessel and collect evidence to determine our next objective."

It took Ratchet a moment to process those words, "You mean you want to split up?"

"That is what I just stated," Clank returned with a shrug. He seemed slightly annoyed, but only slightly. Barely noteworthy.

Splitting up meant that they'd be traveling on their own separate terms. On one hand, how far could Clank get on his own? He wasn't fast or strong. If he had to fight his way through some sort of security measure, they probably wouldn't see each other again. On the other hand... no one around to tell him what to do. He could take whatever he wanted and fight however he pleased, and there would be no robot on his back to worry about too. Each side was considered before eventually Ratchet relented, "Alright. You go outside and explore. I'll head that way, into the bio wing, and see if I can find any of the scientists that work here."

"Be cautious," Clank warned one last time as he made his way to the door, "The creatures in the biology labs are experimental crossbreeds between naturally aggressive predators. It would serve you well to try and bypass them altogether."

Amazing. They weren't even going in the same direction and Clank was giving him orders. Smiling politely, Ratchet took a brief moment to tell Clank, "I'll be careful. Besides, they'll all be in cages, right? What's the worst that could happen?"

A lot of things. But Clank decided to spare Ratchet the long list and simply went on his way. On the other side of the hanger, Ratchet smashed his way through a security gate and did the same.

* * *

Ratchet discovered just how wrong things could go on his own, as he fought his way passed what appeared to be mutated red-eyed amphibians – honestly, he was too concerned about smacking them away from his flesh to do any classification – and Blargians wearing bright yellow hazmat suits who were 'decontaminating' the area. With plasma rifles. Ratchet hadn't known much about Blargians before this whole adventure, but decided that they just hated everything. If it was useful, use it, but anything that got in their way was vaporized or obliterated. It was just as simple as that.

As it turns out, though, protection from hazardous materials doesn't necessarily translate into protection from power-sliding Lombaxes. They toppled over like dominoes, long enough for Ratchet to pull off their masks and knock them out with a swift blow to the head. Afterwords, he locked them in a maintenance closet. You know, to protect them from the vicious carnivorous abominations roaming around. The fact that it would probably be hilarious when they awoke in no way affected his decision.

When Ratchet came to the next room, he paused, taking in the sight with his ears folding back instinctively. Insane was really the only way to describe it. It must have been some sort of massive habitat for the creatures, but it appeared to be massively broken. There were shards of broken glass on the floor – both the landing Ratchet was standing on and the one at the bottom of the room, just below the broken habitat. One fall and it was all over. With a deep breath, Ratchet leapt forward and put his feline instincts to use.

In addition to the treacherous broken state of the habitat, a noxious-looking green gas was being dispersed; it was probably meant to purge whatever experiments had been in here. Taking a deep breath, Ratchet ran forth and grasped at the edge of a set of platforms probably meant for the experiment. It was a synch for someone who had spent their whole lives climbing through rocky terrain. But experience also made Ratchet cocky; all it takes is one slip up and...

"ARG!"

...you get sprayed in the face. Something Ratchet learned too late, as he doubled over and coughed violently. Damn it, what was with him and poisonous gases? Ratchet blinked as his vision clouded and began panicking, if only internally. This stuff was made lethal. But there had to be a 'just in case' fix-it around here somewhere. An antidote or first aid kit or-

Nanotech. Though his head was beginning to fog, Ratchet's mind went back to Novalis; the glass wounds on his hands and feet brought back the soothing, tickling sensation from the doomed world. One hand blindly groped around Ratchet's left pocket, increasing in speed as a headache hit. There wasn't much time... the left pocket was empty. Desperately, Ratchet moved on to the right pocket. Success! The miniature blue robots swarmed through his gloves into his skin, burrowing into his bloodstream. From there, it was as if the poison had never hit. Ratchet sat back and enjoyed the sensation for but a moment. It was still pretty unreal, the numb feeling of the healing process going by at insane speeds, but he needed to keep moving. His eyes ran across the room, stopping at a telecommunication orb. Somebody must have used it to send a message out after the escape. Or maybe before, didn't really matter. Ratchet aimed carefully before firing the device and swinging across the gap.

Maybe someone in the next few rooms could tell him what happened here.

* * *

According to his schematics, the outside of the Blargian Tactical Station was used for storage.

The insides of the station were too unreliable; anybody with a key card could access almost anywhere within the station. Too risky. But outside there were more obstacles to overcome. You would have to lift whatever you were planning to take and carry it out – and zero gravity would not help you here, thanks to artificial gravity generators (called AGGs by some) in place around the outside of the facility. Lack of air was only a sort of nuisance to most, thanks to O2 masks, but there were security precautions in place just in case anyone ever tried to steal from the BTS.

Of course, most people were not robots with the emergency security shut-off code, like Clank.

With a short grin that lasted a little longer than it should have, Clank stepped off the elevator, walking casually past the disabled defenses. It was at times like this where he felt... good. Like he could take on anything Drek threw at him. Of course he knew that was not true and would not dare to act on it or taunt Drek in any form but still, it felt unreal. They had made a lot of progress the last few days, him and Ratchet, and it was finally starting to show. They were ready to go after something big.

But what? Clank pondered as he carefully balanced across the platforms. Already they had fought one of Drek's top lieutenants – and sent him running, thank you – and stopped an invasion force. If anything, Eudora was now better off than it ever was. What else was there to tackle?

Entering the observation area, Clank took a casual glance out the window as he walked past, then froze. Was that...? walking back for a better look, Clank found his answer in the form of a ship from Drek's armada. His eyes widened at the sight of it, then scanned over it. A small hull breech, most likely caused by an asteroid, was being repaired. Slowly, the look on Clank's face changed from one of moderate surprise to a knowing one.

Looks like they had found their next target.

* * *

The room Ratchet entered next appeared to be some sort of containment area. With a curious glance, Ratchet approached one of the cages, entrapping some sort of lizard, which blinked to life at Ratchet's slow approach. It tilted its head to the side inquisitively. Maybe these things weren't so bad-

_SNAP! SNAP!_

Yes, they were that bad, Ratchet concluded, ducking away from the thing as it tried to bite at him through the container. It felt somewhat silly, being afraid of something that couldn't possibly get to you, but Ratchet was going to play this one on the safe side of cautious, thank you. With them out of the way, Ratchet turned to the door. It wasn't so much a door as it was some sort of force field, created by a constant stream of negatively charged particles. Touching that thing would produce... 'shocking' results. But if he could disable the power source, there was no problem. And the power source...

...was connected to the containment fields of the creature's cage. Of course. He could just go back, but then his thoughts turned to Clank. The little robot probably had something in mind when he chose that direction, which meant he was trying to find something in specific. If Ratchet didn't match his find at the least, then his entire venture here would be pointless. So, with a glare, he sent his wrench careening towards the power source, going through the electron-generating device and smashing it. The force field went down. So did the containment field.

As expected, the lizard crashed through the glass cage and plopped onto the ground, screeching at Ratchet; a loud, high-pitched sound that caused him to wince instinctively. It then charged towards the stunned Lombax, who barely managed to dodge it. Wrench gripped tightly, Ratchet hopped onto its back, holding on tightly to its neck as it tried to buck him off. Adrenaline flowed through the Lombax; this was something he'd never quite experienced before, and despite his initial misgivings, it was kind of fun. But, he reminded himself, this thing would eat him if it did manage to get him off, so he gave the creature's skull a singular but powerful blow to the back of the skull, sending it into the land of Nod. It was almost too much; Ratchet leaned against a nearby wall and laughed until all the adrenaline was out of his system.

* * *

The hydrodisplacer, according to Clank's calculations, was not far. In fact, it was within this very maintenance structure. The room looked almost ship-like in design. Clank could conjure the image of determined engineers working hard on this project only to have it scoffed by the likes of Drek and tossed casually into storage. But all the better for him. All he needed now was a maintenance 'bot, and he was all set.

Maintenance 'bots were not very hard to find. They were kept in glass containers, so that they could break out easily should the need for that arise. They did not need to now, but the glass containment units made it easy for Clank to break out the smaller robots himself. One punch had the 'bot free and, as programmed, it activated but with no directive. Puzzled at this intrusion, it looked around, halting its visual inspection upon Clank.

Transmitting in binary, Clank sent it a simple signal. Hello.

Hello. The maintenance 'bot blinked. Can you tell me why I have awoken from my slumber?

I need your help to gain access into the interior of a room coming up ahead. Would you care to unlock it for me?

The maintenance 'bot took a moment to calculate its answer. A short scan – not nearly as thorough as Clank's own scanners could provide – passed throughout his body. A quick security check. Then the little 'bot nodded. Yes, sir.

He walked away from the maintenance 'bot dispenser, not even bothering to look as another maintenance 'bot slotted into place. He knew the drill. One 'bot leaves, repairs the damage, and another one fills its place. Should the first one die, another one is ordered. And so the process goes again and again and again. It was kind of numbing, really, how wasteful the Blargians were with these semi-intelligent 'bots. Well, more help for him.

It followed closely behind, not once questioning Clank. After all, Clank was, in all technicality, a superior officer. It had to obey him without question. So when a mysterious lizard monster dropped from the ceiling and almost crushed the taller 'bot, it felt inclined to help him. After all, that is what subordinates do. There was no response from it when Clank thanked it. It was just doing its job. Actually, it should be thanking Clank for allowing it the opportunity to do its job.

Clank was slightly baffled by its bizarrely unresponsive behavior. Did he come off like that to others? He certainly hoped not.

Upon reaching the chamber, Clank commanded the maintenance 'bot to open it with a single binary message. It responded physically, doing the task without sound or question. Clank surprised himself by being slightly disappointed when it went inside the structure. He knew he would never see it again. But, on the plus side, the hydrodisplacer was right there. All he had to do was walk forward and pick it up. Success!

The device compressed easily enough, and fit snugly inside his storage compartment. Even though it was a bit of a tight fit, he grinned. The first objective that his creator left for him – beyond stopping Drek, that is – and he accomplished it. Moreover, he accomplished it with very little help. And the help he did get was acquired through deceit. While irrational, it caused a bubble of mirth inside of him.

There was this feeling inside of his chest; this odd compelling sensation. It took root, spreading uncontrollably throughout his little metal body. He grinned and, without warning or consent, broke into a short fit of laughter.

Almost immediately afterwords he wondered what came over him. Laughing as Ratchet had felt good, bizarrely good, and it boggled him to no end. After a moment of ponder, Clank noticed the bridge that had formed to his left. The maintenance 'bot must have opened it for him. How nice of it. Still pondering his own outburst, Clank began the trek back to Ratchet. He would at least have the comfort of knowing that the hydrodisplacer would certainly be put to good use on their quest.

* * *

Yet another failed containment room. Ratchet was beginning to wonder if these things had been let out on purpose.

There was also a disturbing lack of exterminators beyond the initial containment room. Were those the only people the so-called 'Supreme' Executive Chairman put on duty? Or had the others been... eaten? In the next room, Ratchet almost expected to find another room full of cages. Instead, what he found disturbed him even more. This chamber was built to support four large containment fields; each contained creature was separated by a series of artificial electric fences. But all but two of the fences were down and there were no signs of any of the creatures. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

And what a surprise, more lizards. Ratchet had long since grown tired of fighting these things. Just one solid blow to the back of the head and they were out. Whoever bred these creatures wasn't very good at their job, lucky for Ratchet. He bounced passed those things into the next room. What he met in there...

Well, he'd already seen its pen, so he hadn't really been surprised by the size of the monster. He was surprised, however, at how similar it looked to the lizard creatures he'd been fighting throughout the area. It had a fancy looking crown, and its skin seemed a bit tougher, but really, it was the same thing. Perhaps a different species of the same creature?

It roared, loudly, and this one caused Ratchet's ears to pound. Damn it, he should really be used to loud noises by this point, but they still caught him off guard. He'd have to do something about that at some point. But for now, he focused all his attention and energy on the creature in front of him. It scuttled forward on spidery legs, creating bizarre tapping noises whenever one of its six legs hit the ground. The movements were almost graceful, but Ratchet didn't dwell on this as he dove away from the creature when it snapped at him with the intent to bite his head off. Upon missing, it screeched in frustration and ran back towards him. Another dodge, and this time Ratchet thought to toss his wrench at the creature. It hit the crown of its head, bounced off the leathery material and landed on the ground near his feet. That attack hadn't done much damage, but it had succeeded in getting the large lizard even madder, somehow.

With another loud screech, the amphibian things came leaping at him from the ceiling. This, the Lombax hadn't anticipated. He found himself swatting at the sky, the ground and, on occasion, his own limbs in a desperate struggle to get these things off of him. There apparently had been one of the smaller lizards in the room; it had successfully gone around Ratchet and he wouldn't have noticed it were it not for one of the amphibian things hitting it with a loud smack. Luckily the situation was easily resolved with Ratchet's wrench.

What was up with these things, though? It was almost like this giant was their leader... weird.

But if it was, it would confirm Ratchet's theory that it was one of those lizards. And that meant the back of its head was vulnerable. With a loud cry of his own, Ratchet ran up to the thing, power-sliding underneath it and performing a sudden turn mid-slide. From there he jumped swiftly on its back and delivered a blow as powerful as he could manage to the back of its skull. It did the trick, just as Ratchet knew it would. The lizard slumped to the ground, limply, and Ratchet slid off its back. It wasn't quite out yet, though, and Ratchet got one last look at its softly glowing yellow eyes before it went to sleep. It almost looked sad...

Wasting no more time on this thought, Ratchet quickly moved to grab some rope from the observation area. He wrapped one end tightly around the monster's throat and the other around the most sturdy structure he could find. Somebody else would come and deal with this thing later... or not. He didn't really care anymore. Ratchet took one more moment to double-check his knots, then walked into the next room.

"Oh, thank goodness! I thought I was a goner this time!"

The unexpected voice caused Ratchet to jump.

"Did I startle you? Sorry," From his right, Ratchet could see a Solanian standing on a stool. He was short in height, in hair, in every meaning of the word. From the looks of it, the guy was a scientist here... was he the same one from the commercial? Ratchet doubted that, "Some nano-wit from the genetics division must have left the cages open again. The last time it happened, though, we didn't have those large... lizard things... running around."

Ratchet leaned against a wall, tired, "Yeah, well, I fixed it," He took a pause in his panting to give the scientist a critical eye. Why was he still cowering on top of a chair? He looked like an idiot, "You can come down now."

Ignoring the Lombax, as most people tend to do, the scientist went on rambling, "I swear, this is no way for a gadget engineer to be treated. I deserve better than this, dammit!" He stomped his foot on the chair, "The next chance I get, I'm retiring. Bye-bye, BTS, I'm gonna go work at Gadgetron or Big Al's Robo Shack or, well, ANYWHERE BUT HERE!" He followed up that proclamation with a few insane sounding chuckles.

"Ah..." Ratchet frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, yes, you," The Gadget Engineer examined him him curiously, "Well, you did save my life, so I suppose I owe you... ah!" He grinned, "How about I give you some of my old stuff? I'm sure I have something in my workshop I don't need anymore. C'mon!" He sounded almost giddy as he raced into an office, "You can help me pack up my desk!"

Geez, Ratchet thought with a roll of his eyes, this guy crossed the boundaries between frightened victim and annoying. Had he been that desperate sounding when he'd expressed to people how much he wanted off of Veldin? In actuality, though, he followed the guy without complaint, watching him tear apart the tiny desk space and back it all into a suitcase. Some things were thrown on the desk; things Ratchet was allowed to take, he supposed. Amongst them were assorted hard candies, the odd bolt or twenty, some old invention designs and, most importantly, a new pair of grindboots. The sight of them had Ratchet grinning excitedly. He reached over the desk to take them... and paused.

One of the blueprints haphazardly thrown onto the desk was of a robot. According to the scale it was tall, maybe twice Ratchet's size, but that wasn't what caught his attention. There was something familiar about it, something that made Ratchet stare. It wasn't that he'd seen this particular robot before, but something about the layout of its part, of the outward design... his mind burned as it struggled to recall where, exactly, this design had appeared before in his life. Before he could change his mind, he grasped the blueprints and stuffed them in his pocket before grabbing the grindboots. Finally, the scientist gave him a grin, "Well, I'm off. Thanks again for your help, stranger. I hope I never see you again."

Same here, Ratchet thought bitterly as he watched the man walk away. Well, whatever. Time to show Clank his cool new grindboots.

* * *

To Clank's moderate surprise, Ratchet was waiting for him when he returned. He was leaning against the wall parallel to the airlock, arms crossed and eyes neutral. He did not seem to be aware of Clank's reentry, so the robot announced himself with a simple, "I am back."

"So you are," Ratchet responded without even opening his eyes. His slumped form gave an almost tired vibe. But, looking at it more closely, Clank figured he was merely leaning without effort. There was too much tension in his body for him to be truly exhausted.

Not bothering to ponder this for much longer, Clank retrieved the hydrodisplacer from his storage compartment, saying aloud, "And I found... this," As he enlarged it to its normal size and tossed it to Ratchet. The odd thing was, even though it was much too large for Clank, it was somehow even more ill-fitting for Ratchet to hold. Perhaps it was because of the awkward way he had caught it, or maybe it was because of the uncharacteristically sheepish look on his face. He gave Clank an awkward, almost forced, grin.

"Well this is... something," Ratchet's lopsided grin told just as much as his voice did. Although quite skilled with engineering, he did not seem to be aware of what the device was. Quickly, this was confirmed, "Something... that's... what is this thing?"

"It is a hydrodisplacer," Clank stated simply.

Ratchet's ears bent backwards. The robot was not sure whether or not Ratchet knew what it was or what it did. He began reorienting it so that it was positioned right, looking somewhat awkward on Ratchet's small shoulders, "Well, thanks. I always wanted one of these things... I guess," The object was tossed back to Clank, who minimized it and placed it back in his compartment. It fit more comfortably this time, now that Clank knew how big it was in relation to his internal size. In front of him, Ratchet lifted his feet, showing off a pair of fresh new grindboots, "I'd give you these," He said, throwing a bit of a smile Clank's way. It was somewhat crooked, "but I don't think they'd fit your stubby little feet."

"True," Clank agreed quickly, inspecting them with a critical eye, "They barely even fit your feet," That sensation bubbled within him again and before Clank knew it, he was giggling. Not out of control, just a short little chuckle, but it still captured Ratchet's bewildered attention.

"Whoa," His eyes were wide and clear as crystal, "Did- did you just _laugh_?"

Almost immediately, Clank responded to the positive, following with a quick inquiry, "Why? Did I do it wrong?" Logically, he knew that every laugh was different, but the thought of doing it wrong after just figuring it out sobered him quite efficiently.

Ratchet shook his head to signify the negative, "Nah, it's just weird, is all. Never heard a laugh like that. Or, you know, from you. No offense, man, but you're kinda..." The sentence trailed off, before Ratchet just gave him a dismissing gesture, "Never mind. Anyways, what's next?"

"That," Clank answered indirectly, choosing to point to the damaged war ship outside, "That ship is one of the Blargian Private Armada. It is capable of laying siege for hours on end before requiring more ammunition. To take it out would increase our chances of success. Over there," Clank's schematics kicked in once again, reminding him of the ship used for easy passage between ships that needed maintenance and the Blargian Tactical Station, "we can use that to sneak aboard without being fired upon."

"Sounds cool," Ratchet pushed himself off the wall, walking towards Clank with a hand outstretched, "Let's take this sucker down!" They reconnected, bolt locks clicking together at the fastest time yet. It took almost no time at all for the duo of to reach the small pod, placed off to the side so employees would not accidentally fling themselves into space. The thought was caused that feeling again, but just enough to only make him want to chuckle, as opposed to laughing with abandon. Good. He could control this, to some degree. The alternative would have been disastrous.

The trip between the BTS and the warship was a quick one. Ratchet drove with the mildly logical excuse that he required more practice driving – something that, while absurd, was not argued. He supposed it was because Ratchet, for all of his carefree attitude, took great care while working with ships. There seemed to be a connection here, something held right in front of his eyes. He was just having trouble seeing its roots. Were odd things like this part of being organic? Or was it exclusive to Ratchet? It took more work than it should have to get himself back on task as they finally boarded the war ship.

Blargian ships were, for the most part, designed similarly. They consisted of a series of elaborate connecting doorways; this was done so as to direct the troops more efficiently. They were forced to take the route you told them to, and should they not... insubordination. It was nothing more than a practice in obeying orders. Today, the right side of the ship was open, and Ratchet bolted through rather quickly, using his Omniwrench to swiftly knock out unsuspecting guards. Really, they were only poorly trained engineers, so it was not surprising that they went down easy.

Finally, the bridge. It had been easier than Clank assumed... which left him more anxious than anything. But this was shoved to the back of his mind as he instead focused on something more important – namely, the left open infobot account on a nearby computer. It appeared to be a news stream... Clank disengaged himself from Ratchet's harness and took a moment to begin a download to one of the infobots within his storage chamber.

A loud alarm sprung up. The room began glowing with red warning lights and Ratchet was forced to cover his ears. Clank felt his insides curl. This was his doing and, despite it being accidental, he very much wished he could take it back. How stupid of him, not to check and see if the computer had been bugged!

The room suddenly began filling with Blargian soldiers, each one brandishing a weapon. There were too many for Clank to count; they were continuously entering from all directions and it was impossible to keep a steady count going. However, he was fairly certain that the number added up to four or five commando troops, which summed up to around forty or fifty soldiers, each dedicated to wiping the duo out.

Perhaps this had not been such a good idea...

Ratchet stood next to him and, although the circumstances were terrifying, he looked ready to fight, eyes narrowed and wrench gripped tightly. While admirable that he was willing to go down fighting, Clank could not find it in himself to let Ratchet go through with this. Frantically, he searched, scanning each individual piece of equipment for anything that might be useful. His scan paused on a dashboard not far from them.

A self-destruct button. Part of him could scarcely believe that the Blargian militia would include such a feature in their ships. The rest of him tried to see it from a logical angle; if anyone ever stole the ship, they could just blow it up along with the thieves. But it did not appear to have a remote activation. There was something horribly wrong with Blargian logic, Clank decided, but did not press the thought. Instead, he made a run for it.

Reaching the button was not a heart-stopping race to the finish. In fact, it was rather anticlimactic. The outcome of pressing it, however, was not. The moment it went down, three warning bleeps blared across the station. The army surrounding them scrambled away, desperately attempting to get to the escape pods. Ratchet did not look panicked, but he certainly looked more alarmed and suspicious than relieved.

"Ah, Clank, what just happened?"

Blinking up, Clank decided to convey what happened to Ratchet as he began to lead him away, "They are evacuating the ship because I just activated the ship's self-destruct."

"WHAT?" Ratchet, in a state of shock, ripped his hand away from Clank, "Why- how- never mind, hold on!" With that, the race began. Ratchet's speeds before now had been nothing quite like this. Not only did he beat his record for re-connecting Clank to his back, but he also jumped, dodged and sprinted like Clank had never seen before. The pounding on his back was even harder now. Ratchet was panting, just a little bit. His internal counter read twenty seconds to detonation when they finally got to the escape pod.

Behind them, the ship exploded. It could not be heard, however; the vacuum surrounding them muted the sound. But the red and yellow lights appeared sporadically all over the ship until, finally, it broke into two, each piece drifting away from the others. The sight was worthy of a smile. Victory.

"Whew," Ratchet breathed. His attention was not so much focused on the explosion as it was on the hand currently clutching at his chest. The location of that thumping... "That was... interesting," His words were constantly being interrupted by his own heavy breathing, "Warn me before you do something like that!"

Clank flinched back. Although his voice was made less threatening by his lack of breath, Ratchet seemed genuinely angry about this. Blinking, Clank responded in a manner that he hoped would decrease Ratchet's irritation, "My apologies. I will make sure to let you know the next time I plan to blow something up."

"Was that sarcasm?" Ratchet asked with a raised brow.

Clank could only tilt his head in confusion. He was aware of what sarcasm was, but it was not appropriate for the situation. Why use it? "Negative," Silence ensued, before Clank recalled the infobot stream, "Ratchet," The Lombax, having begun to walk back to their ship, paused to look back at Clank, "I uploaded an infobot stream while we were on the warship. Perhaps it would be a good idea to watch it."

The Lombax raised a brow, "Yeah? Well, okay, put it on."

* * *

_DOWNLOADING STREAM... STREAM DOWNLOAD COMPLETE._

_The scene opened up with Darla Gratch, a well known robotic reporter, in the foreground. Behind her, a valiant soldier was fending off what appeared to be a gargantuan germ. While he did so, Darla spoke:_

"_This is Darla Gratch reporting live from Blackwater City. We've just learned that Captain Qwark will be presenting the grand prize at the Intergalactic Hoverboard Championship, which will be held here over the next few days."_

_The germ-like creature behind her had successfully vanquished the soldier, grinning with sadistic glee as it consumed him. Gratch looked back only briefly, before her expression morphed as she remembered something. Quickly, she turned back to the camera._

"_In related news, this planet has recently been suffering from an infestation of strange amoeboid creatures. The city's administration has assured this reporter that every step has been taken to eradicate these nuisances. Darla Gratch, Channel 2 news."_

_The robot woman smiled charismatically at the camera, unaware of the approaching amoeboid creature behind her. It raised itself up to above her height, closing in on her..._

_STREAM TERMINATED._

* * *

"Well, that was informative," Ratchet stated as the infobot retreated back into Clank's storage compartment. The little robot had decided to keep it, despite turning the others they had found loose. This one had a damaged memory bank, thanks to Ratchet, and would not be able to resell itself or find suitable work. Being Clank's personal infobot was probably the best job available for the poor thing.

"Do you think that woman is alright?" Clank asked, thinking back to Miss Gratch. She seemed to be unaware of the danger that befell her. Being eaten alive like that... robots are quite a bit more resilient than organics. She could be alive in there for quite some time.

Ratchet gave him what appeared to be a curious look, then waved away his concern for Miss Gratch, "You mean Darla? That woman's been eaten by a Blargian Snagglebeast. I'm pretty sure she can handle walking gelatin monsters. But didn't you hear? Captain Qwark's hosting the Hoverboard Tournament. If I could manage to win..."

Then another of Clank's objectives would be complete. This was what organics would call a very good day, "Then why are we still loafing around here? Let us get on with our mission!" The sensation that urged him to laugh came upon him again. It was ignored, but that did not stop him from cracking a large smile.

* * *

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

A Blargian male, tall and stoic, stood at the edge of the wooden benches, hands gripping a small white card, "We have, your honor. We, the jury, find the defendant guilty of all charges."

A sadistic grin formed in Judge Drek's eyes, "So he is. Thank you for your time and effort. Each of you will be escorted back to your homes by my own personal commandos. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions," His words were only acknowledged by some; the rest left in quite a hurry, "Now," He stated, once the jury and audience was gone. Only the defendant, judge and some officers were left, "As for your punishment..."

"Please, sir!" The Lieutenant begged, shaking subtly. His eyes were narrowed with fear, "L-let me have one more chance! I'll kill them both this time!"

"You already HAD that chance," The Supreme Chairman snarled, apathy crossing his appearance, "Now you can accept your punishment like a man or like a grovelling dog," He motioned for the guards to place the collar around his neck, sighing at the pathetic squealing and screaming that came from the ex-lieutenant, "It appears you are going to take this like a dog. Such a shame... I had such high hopes for you. Ah, well," Keeping his mouth thin and straight, he reached for the remote at the judge's stand, pointed it at the collar, and watched with slight disinterest as the Lieutenant howled in pain, electricity coursing through his circuits, overloading them as they passed through his conductible metal form.

With a sense of dismissal, Drek waved to the guards to carry the body away, leaving him alone in the judge's chambers. His attention fell to the plans on his desk. Things were going along exactly as scheduled and, despite a few setbacks, they were well on their way. But his thoughts then turned to the Lieutenant.

...he would need to be more careful about the people he hired. He couldn't afford any more distractions.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I'll bet you didn't know that Drek is a judge! He is also a certified paramedic, an amateur computer programmer, a lover of soylent greens and long walks on the beach and a fan boy of Captain Starshield. But if you tell anyone he'll have you put to death for dispensing classified information. I get off scott-free because Drek owes me money. And that is why I love making bets on minesweeper games!

But, the chapter itself. I think this is one of the best yet. At least, the beginning is. But as it goes on... after Ratchet and Clank finished their separate missions, I kinda got bored and just wanted it done. I think that's why that section is shorter and with less detail. Also, this is the point where, in my mind, Clank starts to become more... subconsciously aware. That is to say, he's becoming less of a mindless machine with a mission and more of a sentient person with morals. But yeah, Blackwater City is next. That's gonna be fun... except for the hoverboard race... I forgot about that. Damn it.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I didn't put quotations around the speech with the infobot and Clank because, the way they're communicating... you can equate it to telepathy. They are speaking with their MINDS.

What did I do good on?: Ratchet's sections here are pretty in depth. Reading it again... I'm actually kinda surprised. It has something of an equal mix between angst and humor.

What did I fail on?: I could've gone a lot more in-depth with Clank, I think. I mean, since he's not really aware of himself yet either, I guess I shouldn't go TOO deep, but I could've explored what he was feeling. Not doing so because I'm lazy.

Random Question for Reviewers: Would you like to play minesweeper? (Smirk)


	8. Rilgar: Worry

Fur glistened with sweat. Eyes narrowed, focused on nothing but the goal that lied ahead. He was the picture of determination.

Lean forward to create more speed. Crouch lower for better balance. Keep your feet as still as possible; even the slightest movement could send you hurtling uncontrollably towards the nearest wall. All the power is in your legs. Hands are to be kept outstretched at your side; placing them on the sides of the board can help with control, but he is supposed to be a professional. He does not need training wheels like that. Use your senses to your advantage. Every sound, sight and even smell must be used to your advantage if you are going to get anywhere, let alone win.

The finish line was just up ahead. Just a few more cubits...

Time.

"So," Ratchet asked the robot sitting next to the marker, panting, "How'd I do?"

Clank gave the small stopwatch in his hand a look, blinked, then turned back to Ratchet, "The time for your last circuit is one minute and fifty-two seconds. Rounded up, as per your request," The small timekeeper was placed within his storage compartment, "It is your best time by far. You really are very good at this."

Despite the compliment, Ratchet's face was grim, "'Very good' doesn't stand a chance against four of the galaxy's best hoverboarders. I need more practice."

In their short time of knowing each other, Clank had never seen Ratchet so invested in anything. More puzzling was that he had not been nearly this devoted when they had arrived in Blackwater City about three days ago, carefree but hurriedly searching for the registry. When they had finally located the track, hours later, Ratchet had stared almost blankly at the practicing racers as Clank used the card Skid McMarxx had given them on Aridia to sign Ratchet into the race, ignoring the odd look he got from the Rilgarian woman at the registry. When they had left the tall building, Ratchet had given Clank a serious look and stated:

"I'm gonna need practice."

Which Clank had, at the time, wholeheartedly agreed with. In fact, he had been pleasantly surprised with the change of attitude: Ratchet suddenly showed a sort of single-minded obsession, much like his own, with an objective that fit their mission. However, that quickly wore off as Clank realized just how far Ratchet was willing to take this.

Far enough to practice the same course over and over again since dawn and demand more only three hours before the race.

There was this strain on his core when he looked at Ratchet's sweat drenched face, clenched with determination. Although he could not say quite what it was, he found that it had some correlation to Ratchet's exhaustion and that it alleviated – at least somewhat – when the Lombax took a break. So, with only minor hesitance, he began speaking, "While your dedication to the cause is admirable, Ratchet, I think it would be best for you to take a break. The race, after all, is in three hours, and you will not be performing at optimum capacity if you work yourself to exhaustion now."

Ratchet's ears twitched subtly; the only movement the Lombax made. For a terrifying second, Clank wondered if he had done something to offend the Lombax. Then, to his relief, Ratchet sighed and sunk to the ground, utter exhaustion finally defeating him, "You're right," He muttered, though Clank suspected it was only because he did not possess the energy to fight him, "I think I could use a little food. You mind?"

It was a simple enough task, so Clank eagerly nodded, "Not at all. I will be back in a moment," and walked away, a subtle smile crossing his face.

Beyond Ratchet's practicing, the last few days had been rather unproductive, and Clank found himself looking for any little task to keep himself occupied. Judging Ratchet and helping him with small tasks were only a part of the new activities he had taken up to keep himself from going insane over their amazing lack of progress. Others amongst his new tasks included cleaning, studying Blargian transmissions and, perhaps most time-consuming of his new found hobbies, studying Ratchet. After comparing him to some other organics he had observed throughout the last few days, it was decided that he was, indeed, an anomaly amongst organic lifeforms. Of course, not that he gotten to know any of them like he got to know Ratchet. But it was an interesting way to keep his attention. Compared to random strangers he sometimes talked to in shops, Ratchet was... odd. In a word.

But, back to the subject at hand. What would the Lombax like to eat? Yesterday, Ratchet ordered a sandwich from a nearby cafe, but according to his research, organics tended to hate overindulgence. Therefore, the logical choice was to get him something different. But what? And then there were things like allergens and calories to think about... the sheer amount of calculations required to pick a decent meal for the Lombax were causing his head to spin. Perhaps he should just ask whoever was selling the food.

During their short time on Rilgar, Clank had come to another interesting revelations: he was more fond of urban areas than he was of agrarian areas. The more rural areas were random, with certain structures placed as needed, without any consultation to any designs or strategic planning. Civic areas, however, were based off of structure, allowing for easily navigable streets and attractive placement of buildings and plants. Even though he had a computerized memory, the structures made it easy to tell where one was going, as opposed to the repetitive and often vast wilderness where one could easily get lost. Clank did not even have to consult his map while walking to the cafe several blocks from the practice track.

"Hey," A voice called from somewhere to Clank's left, causing him to pause and look at a young Rilgarian leaning laxly against a nearby wall. Below a pair of tinted glasses, he smirked at the robot, "Where you headed, friend?"

With one of his lower eyelids raised as he examined the Rilgarian, Clank responded, "I am en route to a nearby superstore to obtain some edible nourishment for my organic companion. Why?"

Ignoring the question, the Rilgarian made his way over to Clank, giving him a toothy grin and placing a light hand on the robot's shoulder, "Wow. Those are some fancy words there. You always talk so smart?"

Now Clank's suspicion turned to mere confusion. What was wrong with his vocabulary? He tilted his head to get a better look at the Rilgarian, "Can I help you with something?" He finally asked.

"Friend," There was a short pause, during which the hand on his shoulder tightened, "I'm hurt. Really, truly hurt, man. That was just cold. You always act like that?" Upon receiving no answer from the fidgeting robot, he got back on topic, "Now, listen, I can tell when a guy needs weapons and you- you my friend, you're in desperate need of some grade-A weaponry. I think I have just the thing for you," With a subtle glance to his left and right, he discreetly pulled open one side of his coat, revealing a rather impressive collection of firearms. Blasters, pyrocitors and even...

"Is that a RYNO?" Clank asked, rather engrossed in the collection despite himself.

The grin on the dealer's face was just as it would be on any salesman; obnoxiously wide and cheap, "R. N. Y. O. Rip ya' a new one. The most powerful missile launcher in the galaxy, courtesy of Chairman Drek himself.

Clank knew Executive Chairman Drek, and he knew the man would not allow Blargian technology – especially anything as powerful and new as the RYNO – to fall into the hands of such unsavory characters. The RYNO had to be stolen. More importantly, it meant everything else in this arsenal was most likely stolen and probably been sold off to whoever this guy saw on the street. If someone with a less than sane state of mind got a hold of something like this... his mind was made up.

"Sir," He stated, his voice as strong and powerful as he could get it. Seeing as this was Clank, that was not a whole lot, "You are in violation of the Solana Weapons Regulatory Proclamation, Section A-F, paragraph six. I will have to report you to law enforcement," With that said, the robot moved to exit the immediate area and find a place where he could contact local authorities.

The Rilgarians eyes widened some behind his tinted glasses, "Whoa there, friend," He pushed Clank back, "I don't think that's necessary. How 'bout we talk about this?" The grin appeared again, but this time it inspired unease within Clank. But before the conversation could go anywhere else...

"Clank! Hey, Clank!" Both the robot and Rilgarian turned towards the voice of Ratchet, wrench brandished and eyes slightly hostile, "So... who's your new little friend here?"

The two stared each other down; an invisible battle that Clank, it seemed, was excluded from. He was honestly quite alright with that. Finally, the Rilgarian tossed a friendly grin their way, walking off with a swift wave and a quick, "See ya around, friends."

Ratchet still looked angry, and it did not take Clank long to realize his ire was now directed towards the robot himself. He wanted to speak up in his own defense, but it felt like there was a weight attached to his vocal processor, rendering him incapable of speech. Instead, he stood silent and stoic as Ratchet finally spoke up, "I know you're kinda new to this whole 'being around people' concept, but a quick newsflash: if someone on the street tries to sell ya something, just tell them you're broke. That'll get 'em to leave ya alone real fast," Clank nodded mutely, "And if you're gonna threaten someone who has at least seven different types of firearms within reach at all times..." He frowned, though what was going through his head Clank had no idea, "...well, just make sure you've got good cover."

"Affirmative," Clank answered, hesitant, "My... apologies."

He got one confused look from the Lombax – one eye squinted, one widened – before the Lombax rolled both eyes and chuckled, "Don't apologize, you dork. Just don't do it again. Now, c'mon. We need to head down to the course for final prep, and maybe THEN I'll be able to get something to eat."

* * *

Suddenly, Ratchet felt that the medium-sized bucket of fresh fries that had, mere seconds ago, smelled so appealing was now nothing short of nauseating. Or maybe it was just nerves. Either way, eating didn't seem like a good idea anymore. The last thing he wanted was to get sick so close to the event he was supposed to be competing in. Or worse, during the event. He really wished he had ignored Clank and gone one or two more rounds on the practice course. Maybe it wouldn't have made him any more confident, but at least he wouldn't have this nagging feeling that he should have done more.

"Here you are," Clank approached him with a paper in hand – Ratchet's registration number, he realized. It was really a formality for the professional race, since there were so few competitors. But the amateurs were assigned races with these little pieces of paper. With a quick sigh, the paper was folded and stuffed into one of his pockets. Clank tilted his head at the Lombax, eyes narrowed, "Are you ready?"

"No," Ratchet answered suddenly, "but I don't have much choice, do I? Damn," He gave large sigh, suddenly feeling the exhaustion weighing down on him. It hadn't been this bad earlier...

Clank's head was still tilted, but his eyes were now in their normal neutral state, "You have been practicing nonstop for three days. You have done all you can to prepare on such short notice. Just focus on the goal and you will do just fine."

"Yeah..."

But what did Clank know about hoverboarding, anyways? He always assured Ratchet that the Lombax was doing fine, but was he really? His gut sank at the thought; was he really any good at this? Before he could do anything with this new revelation, though, the announcer's loud squawking told him that it was almost time for his race. With a gulp, he gave a nervous thumbs up to the robot and raced, on foot, to the starting position. On either side of him were racers; three on one side, one on the other. They were all professionals, each with their own styles and techniques. Giving each one a quick look-over, Ratchet swallowed and looked forward. Clank's last words echoed in his mind. Just focus... he'd be fine. He just had to believe that.

"Three..."

Each racer took the starting position; this was one thing Ratchet knew he'd get right even before the race. As a kid, he could faintly remember echoes of laughter from two little kids on makeshift skateboards mimicking the professional pose. They looked happy...

"Two..."

No, no, he couldn't think about that. Focus, Lombax, focus!

"One... GO!"

And they were off.

To the surprise of the Lombax, he actually got off to a good start. As is typical of professional races, the four competitors immediately raced ahead, trying to cut each other off. This left them apparently none the wiser as he made his way to a boost ring, temporarily sending him careening forth at high speeds. But it didn't take long for his lead to be noticed and all too quickly the opposition was directly behind him. One racer came up to each side of his hoverboard and narrowed in on him. Quickly realizing what they were attempting, Ratchet ducked low and placed his weight on his back foot, slowing just enough to fall behind the two. They collided, anticlimactically, and managed to stay on their boards as the two spun. It took Ratchet not even a second to come to the conclusion that, should that happen to him, he wouldn't be able to get it under control like that. He'd have to be careful.

He was in second now; one of the other two racers surpassed the rest of them. The last one was closing in fast as well. Ratchet didn't have much time to think before swerving gently to the right, onto a ramp. The launch helped. Not in his placing, particularly, but in clearing his mind. There had always been something about free-falling that made his mind blank; made the world around him disappear for a brief moment. Just him and the air, transcending time and space together. He could still hear the voices...

"_Hold tight, fuzzball. We're about to go flying!"_

...and was glad when they disappeared as he hit the ground, zooming forward at insane speeds. A sharp turn. Watch for the exploding boxes. The heat of the explosion could still be felt even after he vanished beyond the sharp turn. There went one of the five racers... four left. Ratchet narrowed his eyes and continued forward. By some miracle, he was still in second place, though he'd hardly call it a miracle. More like dumb luck.

First place was getting closer...

But so was the opposition. They were right on his tail, keeping close. He had to shake them before he could even think about taking first place. He leaned forward slightly, sending him forward just slightly faster. He had to keep going, just keep moving. They were getting closer... thinking quickly, Ratchet sharply turned. This sent his opponents jettisoning into a wall, their target gone. This also sent Ratchet on an alternate course; one that he hadn't studied. There was no way he'd catch up if he had to continue along this path. There was no way...

"_C'mon, fuzzball,"_ The invisible voice widened Ratchet's eyes, _"There's nothing to be afraid of. The worst thing you can do is crash..."_

With a gulp, Ratchet leaned forward, propelling himself towards a nearby ramp. A boost ring at the top fueled his speed as he hurtled into the unknown. Thanks to the little stunt he did earlier, none of the other competitors chose this course; they were all forced on the normal one. Without them, Ratchet was able to focus completely on the haphazardly placed obstacles ahead. The wind was pushing harshly from both directions; one natural, one created from his own speed.

The two pathways merged together and, when they did, Ratchet was surprised to find himself in the lead. The route he had taken, as he would later discover, connected two different ends of the course. Talk about blind luck. But it hadn't been much of a lead; the skilled professionals behind him were gaining and gaining fast. This couldn't be won on skill and luck alone; Ratchet had to come up with something...

One of the riders came right up to him, knocking into him harshly. Thank goodness for feline reflexes; a normal person would have been knocked off his board. Glaring at his opponent, Ratchet took a brief moment to look ahead. There was the goal... just a little further... He was tied for first. He needed to get ahead quick. Without a second thought, he placed his full weight on one side of the board, sending him careening into the opposition. The racer seemed surprised at the sudden resistance, but retaliated exactly how Ratchet expected the Rilgarian would – by attempting to barrel into the Lombax. When his opponent attempted this, Ratchet took a quick nosedive. He was still moving forward, yes, but now he was also falling at a dangerous speed. Not anticipating this, the other racer barreled over the empty space and had to slow down to keep from lodging into a nearby wall. The finish line was just ahead...

Victory.

The wild applause, the screaming fans, the dream of every hoverboarder come true... and all it really served to do was give Ratchet a headache. Despite this, the elation and adrenaline kept his spirits high, higher than they'd been since... well...

"_Or perhaps we can simply use this swingshot on those telecommunication orbs."_

Since Metropolis.

"Congratulations to the winner of the 457th annual Hovercon Intergalactic Professional Tournament!" The announcer, Ratchet noticed with a dash of irritation, was a scrawny man in a pressed blue suit. Not Qwark, "What's your name, kid?"

Unexpectedly, the mic was shoved up against his muzzle. Ratchet flinched back, more out of shock than anything. Wait, they wanted him on camera now? But there was no Qwark, no anything. Ears flattened against his head, Ratchet leaned closer and, as confidently as he could, managed to stutter out his name, "R-ratchet."

"Well, R-ratchet," The announcer mocked with a grin, "You just beat out four of the best hoverboarders in the galaxy! Care to tell us your secret?"

Gaining a little more confidence, Ratchet shook his head, "Now what'd be the fun of telling you that?"

"Haha," The laughter was so fantastically fake that Ratchet had to make an honest effort not to gag at it, "And a witty one, to boot! Certainly beats out last year's champion by a mile! Well, you've all been waiting for it: the award for this year's champion, R-ratchet, is one Platinum Zoomerator! And broadcasting live to commemorate this is... Captain Qwark!" The audience behind him went wild, but Ratchet felt his ears flop as the image of the Captain came on screen. Yet another dead end.

But this revelation did nothing to quell the enthusiastic spirit of the audience or their vexatious host, all of whom were grinning widely as the well-recognized face appeared above their heads, on every HV in the arena. They squealed and cheered loudly enough for Ratchet's ears to instinctively attempt to fold in. It was taking everything he had not to bolt; his muscles were already tensed to do so. But he persevered, and looked upon the face's seemingly tireless smile.

"Greetings, sir or madame," Qwark spoke with vigor, as if this was the first event he had guest starred at, "Today's winner will receive the patented Gadgetron Platinum Zoomerator! This nifty device gives your hoverboard more lift, speed and style! It's almost as if you have a little me with you on your board," Qwark gave a forced laugh at this, echoed by the audience's own genuine laughs. It was getting particularly hard NOT to roll his eyes and saunter off stage, "Well, I'm afraid that's the end of our little event, folks. But make sure to tune your infobots to the Qwark Classic Channel for this night's episode of 'Dogfight Over Death Canyon', starring the prodigious Captain Qwark!" And with that, the feed cut. There was some lame finale, but Ratchet didn't bother listening to them for even a moment. Instead, he made his way out of the arena, eyes searching frantically. He had to be around here somewhere...

"Ratchet?"

Ah, there he was. With a small grin, the Lombax answered, "Hey. Sorry 'bout not catching Qwark's attention-"

"Do not worry about that," Clank looked a little distracted. The red light on his head was pulsing at a rate slightly faster than normal, "I am currently tracking the location of that transmission. It was short-range, and there were telecommunication orbs outside of the arena. Just a moment... done," There was a silent, almost inaudible 'ping', "I have located Captain Qwark. However, I have also determined that it is impossible to get in their without the proper clearance."

"I'll show them clearance," Ratchet muttered quietly, pulling his wrench from its resting place and slowly banging it against his open palm. Clank stared at the display and quickly rejected it with a shake of his head.

"No, no no!" He cried, "We will get arrested before we could reach his trailer. No, I have determined an alternate route into the area, but you may find it unpleasant..."

To this, the Lombax scoffed. Did he not see the invisible coat of sweat on his fur, or the subtle oil stains on his wrench from where it had been driven into a robot's head? What could possibly be more unpleasant than an amateur entering a pro race or running from the authorities with a talking backpack as his only form of guidance? Whatever this alternate route was, bring it on!

* * *

"Ugh, the sewers? Really, Clank?"

The Lombax looked thoroughly displeased with their current situation. His nose was crinkled in disgust, his ears drooped at his shoulders and he did a careful job of making sure as little of his furry body was in contact with the ground as physically possible. Clank did not quite understand why; the water in this place was already filtered and clean, so there was no reason to him to be so squeamish about their trek through the underground of Blackwater City. Still... he was a creature covered in fur. Perhaps he simply did not like to get it wet? That might make sense...

"How much farther is it, anyways?"

"According to my internal scanners," Clank responded, simultaneously pulling up one of the maps he had purchased, "We should be heading in the right direction. In fact, this next series of chambers leads straight into the area where my sources tell me that Captain Qwark is currently stationed."

Still, the Lombax looked a tad skeptical, "What 'sources'?"

Clank froze. How was he supposed to explain the elaborate process of repairing his infobot's memory banks and scavenging through the surprisingly thorough amounts of data on almost every planet in the solar system? Sewer maps, locations of Ranger posts... with all this information at their disposal, it was no wonder the Blarg were doing as well as they were. But, while troubling how much they knew, he could at least be grateful to the information the infobot was providing. It would certainly be helpful in the days to come.

"It is unimportant," He responded quickly, then switched subjects, "Would you still like me to secure that letter of recommendation from Qwark?" The look on the Lombax's face suddenly changed from one of scrutiny to one of moderate surprise. If Clank had to guess, he would to say that Ratchet had forgotten about that. Not that he could really blame him; organic minds tended to wander easily, so said his programming, and it had been an eventful past few days.

Eventually, Ratchet gave him an unsure shrug, "Dunno," He spoke with his voice lowered, "I haven't really given that much thought... I guess I don't need it now, do I?" His grin re-appeared, but felt... insincere, "I mean, I've got hoverboarding in my future, right? After that race..."

"It would still be wise to have a back-up," The comment came more automatically than anything. His map told him to go to the left, so he turned, with Ratchet keeping close behind him, "Not all career choices – especially one as dynamic as sports – will work out. It would be wise for you to have an alternate career, in case your current one does not work out."

"Don't worry about it," Ratchet's voice became unconcerned, "It'll all work out- you've got to be kidding me."

But no, he was not. The route to where Captain Qwark was involved sliding down a greasy, dirt-coated maintenance pipe. Perhaps he should have warned Ratchet about this, considering the Lombax's show of disgust when while they were walking through the cleaner parts of the sewer. But it did not seem to particularly matter. Clank simply demonstrated the lack of harm by sliding down first, then turning and motioning for Ratchet to follow. With a grimace, Ratchet followed, making sure nothing touched the sides of the sewer pipe save for his feet. Which worked out well... until he slipped close to the rear and landed in the large pile of muck that had accumulated close to the bottom of the pipe. The occasion inspired Clank to practice his new ability to laugh. Which he did. Loudly.

"Yeah, yeah," Grumbled the muck covered feline, "Very funny."

"Well, we should keep moving," Clank blinked, "unless you are not done mucking about?"

For some odd reason, Ratchet gave a loud, annoyed groan at the line. Before he could ask for an explanation, though, the Lombax walked ahead quickly. This was an odd circumstance; Ratchet usually kept his pace slow, so Clank could easily keep up. The robot ran as quickly as he could to catch up with Ratchet, poised to ask about whatever had made Ratchet so upset – maybe the muck had something in it? – only to be interrupted by something that made both of them stand stiff. The sound of rushing water.

There were no words. Ratchet grabbed Clank by the hand and – while running, hoisted him onto the harness. While not their fastest time, Clank realized that this had been the first time they had attempted such a feat while moving. Perhaps they were getting far too used to this.

Then again, they were being chased by water, so he digressed.

Ratchet moved quickly – split platforms and maintenance buoys were quickly hopped over and maneuvered through as he ran through the sewer. Not one drop of water so much as touched him as he moved, with all the grace and poise that Clank had seen before while he was maneuvering through tight situations. This time, though, there was a concentration, a rush that had not been there before. It seemed that the motivation of drowning had encouraged the Lombax to unleash his full potential, moving at speeds that would have made an organic in Clank's situation nauseous. However, he was not organic, and thus the possibility of regurgitating partially digested food did not apply to him.

The two of them moved faster, going as far up as possible. In one circumstance, the buoys moved upward as well, allowing Ratchet to easily reach the platforms. Clank wondered, idly, if there was anything he could do, then decided against acting. After all, slowing their descent would only make them slower, logically. And Ratchet was doing fine on his own.

Then they came to a point where they had to go down.

It seemed that this area had already been flooded with water. The shock of seeing it made the two pause, but Clank realized that they could not stay that way for long – the water was still rising and, sooner or later, they would be sunk. Quite literally. Clank tried to determine a solution when Ratchet started speaking, "Clank, no matter what happens... keep me awake. Pull my tail, pull my ears, I don't care, just _keep me awake_."

And before Clank could ask what he meant, they jumped.

This would be the first time that Clank had been completely submerged in water and, he had to say, it was not a very fun experience. As a part of an automatic protective system in his programming, he could not open his mouth underwater, lest risk rusting his internal parts, and therefore could not speak. Even worse, his helipack seemed to be working under the same coding. Their situation was not helped in the least bit by the fact that, while Ratchet was able to swim, he clearly had no idea how to do it quickly. His movements, unlike on land, were clumsy and awkward, flailing desperately in attempt to make controlled movements. While exasperating, he had to give Ratchet credit; after being raised on a desert planet, it was impressive that he had any idea how to swim at all.

Thankfully, the swim was not particularly long and they arrived at the other side with little to no complications. But the water was still rising and Ratchet had to keep moving, despite his constant gasping. They came across more split platforms and buoys which Ratchet had to jump across to reach the area that, he alerted Ratchet, was just below where the transmission had come from. But there was one more thing standing in their way: more water.

This time without warning, Ratchet dived, pulling himself down into the flooded passageway with struggling limbs. He had not stopped moving at all, and had not really gotten a chance to catch his breath. Combine that with the exhaustion slowing, Clank realized suddenly, and they were not going to make it. Not by a long-shot. And, most certainly Ratchet started slowing, going at a dangerously stagnant pace. An impulse surged through him and, without consideration, he grasped at the striped tail waving uselessly behind him and pulled. Hard.

It seemed to do the trick. Ratchet flinched in pain and began moving faster – an instinctive urge to get away from the pain. His scrambled kicks and frantic strokes actually seemed to be getting them somewhere, and they rose upwards, towards the surface of the water. Finally, after all that, they reached an emergency maintenance elevator and wasted no time in activating it to rise to the surface. Only then did Ratchet, exhausted and soaked, collapse onto the ground, heaving heavily and shivering. Clank pulled himself off of the bolt harness and examined Ratchet as he coughed up some water that had found its way into his lungs. So THAT was coughing...

"I'm good," Ratchet forced out, still panting, "I'm fine. So... what next?"

* * *

Damn it, his name was Butch, not Bob!

The green man groaned in irritation as Qwark, as per usual, prattled on about nothing. Well, okay, he was boasting about himself, but it was pretty much mindless blabber that he'd heard a thousand times already. Sure, sure, he'd been excited beyond belief when he had learned that he, of all people, had been chosen to work with the legendary team Qwark – who wouldn't have been? – but this- this was not what he'd had in mind.

But hey, that's what happens when your only goal out of secondary school was not to be like your father.

Thankfully, Qwark didn't talk too long before deciding that he needed a 'power charge' and that 'Bob' (Butch, the bodyguard corrected in his mind) should go outside. It was only moments later when the loud snore penetrated the trailer's thick tin walls and violate his ears. He grunted, rolling his eyes. OH how he hated this job. Six bolts an hour, nothing extra for traveling all across the frickin' galaxy and nobody ever got his name right! Nobody! It was always 'Bob, do this' or 'Bill, do that' or 'Barbara, hand me that monkey shaver'... although given the circumstance of that last one, it probably wasn't fair to count it.

But he'd do so anyways.

Sighing, he leaned against the door of the trailer. Sometimes, life would just be easier if he had caved all those years ago and went into the family business. But, dammit, he hated math! What the hell kind of accountant hates math? Ugh.

In the midst of his pity, Butch blinked and noticed movement out of one of his eyes. Glaring, he called at the person, "Hey! Hey! Hey! Press conference is over, pal. Get lost!"

"Sorry, sir," The person stated, voice young and small. The guard frowned as he noticed the uniform. Unfortunately, the kid was a part of the security team. If he beat him up, he'd get admonished for it. Probably not fired – He wasn't that lucky – but his pay would probably be docked. Damn it. And the kid was still talking, "I'm just looking for something to do. I mean, walking the perimeter of the place is alright, I guess, but there's just no fun in it."

"Mm-hm," Butch nodded sympathetically. He'd been new too, once, and he knew just how it felt to get stuck on border patrol, of all things. As if anyone short of Doctor Nefarious himself would try a direct assault on the place. That would be just stupid, "I feel ya, kid. But hey, at least you're not sitting in front of this damn door all day. I mean, I get paid a measly six bolts an hour, keep out all the paparazzi and obsessed fans and then when our _beloved_," He spat out the word in disgust. Beloved, yeah right, "Captain dances in front of an open window in his underwear during my break I somehow get blamed for it," he sighed, "Our jobs suck, kid. Let me give you some advice: Get outta here while you still can."

"At least if I were standing still I'd be able to do a logic puzzle or something. Can't write while I walk," A gleam suddenly went off in the kid's eyes, "Hey, how 'bout we switch places for the next rotation? You get to walk around the building once and I'll be able to draw up some puzzles that I can do on the go."

To his own surprise, Butch actually considered the offer. It would be nice to stretch his legs, even if it was only for one rotation. And this kid didn't look dishonest. Although he did question why he was carrying a wrench instead of a standard-issue blaster... ah well. But if anyone found out or caught them, they were so screwed.

...Ah, what the heck. Maybe he'd get lucky and be fired for leaving his post. Better yet, the kid would be fired before he trapped himself in this dead-end career like Butch had. A grin snaked its way across his face, "Alright, kid, you've got yourself a deal. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes. Don't go anywhere!" He warned, walking away. Besides, he'd learned long ago that border patrol was the job with the least regulation. He could go out and get himself a nice cup a' Joe. Pipin' hot and black, just the way he liked it!

Unbeknownst to him, the moment he had left the picture a small robot appeared, coming out from a service elevator that Butch had forgotten about, "Well done, Ratchet," The 'bot applauded, "Now, let's go talk to Captain Qwark."

"About time," The disguised Lombax rolled his eyes, "Qwark's body guard certainly didn't sound too upset about leaving his post. I wonder what that says about Qwark..."

* * *

Actually, it said that Qwark was sleepy.

Awakening him had not been easy. The man slept on a large cot in the middle of the room, surrounded by lavish wardrobe and make-up items – odd, as Ratchet had never seen him in any different costume or wearing any make-up – and tons of Qwark merchandise. Posters and bobble heads and even a cereal with his face on the cover. What a self-indulgent mess. Clank, on the other hand, was fascinated by the massive amounts of memorabilia. Especially the photographs of him beating up various villains. Every one proved his worth in the robot's eyes more and more. He had made the correct choice in Captain Qwark. Now if only they could wake up the snoozing superhero...

Eventually Ratchet, annoyed, pushed a button that caused the cot to fold into itself, sending Qwark to the floor. THAT certainly woke up the startled Captain. Though, to be fair, he seemed to have no idea what had happened.

"Who- What- Where?" He looked up and met the stares of Ratchet and Clank; one of whom was staring with admiration; the other was giving an amused and somewhat annoyed glance, "Hey, you finally found me!"

"Found you?" Repeated the robot, blinking his green optics in slight surprise, "You mean you knew that we would come?"

The green suited man stood to his full height – a good twice the size of the Lombax. Ratchet's ears flattened and he bared his teeth instinctively. He wasn't feral by any meaning of the word, but something about being towered over at such a close distance got him riled up. Clank did not seem to notice the behavior and instead looked in awe as Qwark spoke, "Of course I knew! We are in the middle of a galactic crisis! Some dastardly villain, even as we speak, is plotting to tear the planets of this solar system apart! And you two are the only ones who have Intel on this dastardly villain!"

"Ratchet," There was no hiding the pure adulation in his voice as he spoke, moving closer to Ratchet in order to pull on his pant leg, "He knows!"

The first minute or so of Clank's geek-out had been fun, Ratchet supposed, but now it was just getting annoying. He rolled his eyes at the 'bot and told him, "That's great, Clank. Really, just wonderful. He's so amazing, isn't he?"

The robot seemed to miss the sarcastic tone and responded, "Well, you would have to expect that of someone like Captain Qwark. Finally, we will be able to put an end to the Blargian Menace!" The 'bot smiled at the prospect – which was probably as close to 'giddy' as he could – while Ratchet frowned. He had thought that they were doing a pretty good job on their own. What the hell did they need Qwark for again?

Then, to his surprise, Qwark knelled onto one knee and placed his hand on Clank's shoulder. This had the dual effect of calming Ratchet's innate response to the hero's height and quieting the 'bot's excitement. Or maybe he increased it so much that Clank couldn't respond. Neither robot nor organic were sure of which. The Captain gave a charming smile – odd, as it had seemed so forced on the holovision – and scolded Clank gently, "Now, now, friend, this victory will have to be a team effort. It's not just my amazing skills and experience you need. We also need your intelligence on the Blarg and Ratchet here's-"

"Wait," The Lombax looked confused, "Me?"

"Of course," The super gave Ratchet a look, "I've seen your performance out there in the field, kid. Helga's obstacle course and then today on the race track; I've only ever seen such raw potential in one individual. To a greater degree, of course, but that can't be helped. I mean," He smirked, showing off his perfect white teeth,"look at me. But, getting back to the point... I think you could be a valuable member to Team Qwark just yet, kiddo."

"Me?" The very confused mechanic repeated dumbly. He'd never been completely into the Captain Qwark fad – personally, he was more a Starshield fan – but to have someone like Qwark come straight up to him and tell him that he had potential was beyond his wildest dreams. After all, such compliments didn't come idly from such people. He MUST have meant it. And that meant that finally, FINALLY, someone looked at him and saw someone other than a shady kid in a pair of messy green pants. As more than just a thug with a wrench. As better than just a suicidal, possibly insane maniac that needed to be in an asylum – that one still hurt, just a little.

Clank smiled at the bewildered response. Never had he seen the Lombax so caught off-guard. Was it wrong to want to laugh at the sight? The urge to do so flowed through him, though he restrained it.

This was, after all, a serious mission they were attempting to accomplish. He could not allow himself to become sidetracked with silly things anymore. Not when the end was so close.

"Yes, you," Captain Qwark smiled, "You're probably the most skilled Qwark cadet I've seen yet."

Ratchet never had the heart to tell Qwark he wasn't a member.

"But, back to matters of galactic security," The hero stood to his full height again, although this time he took a step backwards, "We will need to work together to put a stop to this – but I cannot do it without your help. Here, watch this," The large man pulled out of his back pocket an infobot, then set the automatic playback. An orchestra played in the background as the three were treated to an instructional video.

* * *

"_What makes one man toil in obscurity while another becomes a hero?" Asked Captain Qwark's voice, "Is it strength, compassion, determination or just pure, blind luck?"_

_As the narration went on, series of images were displayed; most of them of Captain Qwark._

"_Wise men through the ages have struggled with that very question, but Captain Qwark knows the secret! That's why he's been able to defeat more desparates, rescue more damsels in distress and save more civilizations than any other hero in the Galaxy! And now..."_

_The image showed Qwark with his arm around a figure that was blacked out._

"_...is your opportunity to see if you got the stuff heroes are made of! You will be tested at Captain Qwark's secret base, where you must quickly conquer Qwark's killer candidate of gwonfounded complexions-? Er, can you quickly gwon – can, can you qwarkly quick – AGH!"_

_There was a sigh, tired and clearly not liking the script. But someone had to do it, so he finished up._

"_Just make your way through the defenses to the center of the base! Prove yourself, learn the secret and you just might earn your place amongst Qwark's elite!"_

_Quickly speaking, Qwark continued, "Consult your doctor before attempting any strenuous exercise. Not responsible for death or dismemberment. Your results may vary."_

* * *

Back in reality, Qwark smiled at the duo, "Do the two of you have an infobot I can transmit the coordinates to?"

Ratchet opened his mouth, ready to reply, when Clank beat him to the punch with a surprising answer, "Actually, yes, we do," He opened his compartment and, surely enough, an infobot zoomed out posthaste.

"Where did you-? Wait," There was a dent in the side of its head. An awfully familiar one... "Is that the one I bashed over the head?"

"He forgives you," Clank responded, gently rubbing at the infobot's head as it – apparently he – received the download. Ratchet rolled his eyes in response. 'He'. Great, now he was outnumbered... no wait, they were still tied if he included Qwark. That would take a while to get used to.

Qwark patted Clank's head, "I'll see the both of you at my secret base on planet Umbris. Oh, and, if you need a new infobot..." Clank's personal infobot squeaked awkwardly at the thought, and it retreated back into the larger robot's chest cavity as Clank denied Qwark with a vicious head shake, "Eh, suit yourself, little fellow," He cast a smile in Ratchet's direction, "And you make sure to stay cool. You're going places, kid."

Clank almost – ALMOST – let out a giggle at Ratchet's goofy smile. He was embarrassed again... were all organics so easily embarrassed? He pondered the situation shortly, then decided to file it for later research. After all, defeating the Blarg was just a few blocks away. The two gave a quick salute, then began to walk away. Until Ratchet tripped over something, that is. He frowned at the white remote with its single button, "Ah, what's this thing?"

"O-oh, that?" The hero chuckled loudly enough to cause Ratchet's ears to bend, "That's just my-my radio remote."

Ratchet clicked the singular button. Nothing happened, "Your battery must be dead or something."

"Or something. Now, why don't you two go ahead and prepare for Umbris? I'll be... here, for now. Can't leave until my shuttle gets here tomorrow."

That was where the two left, each in high spirits. Clank was happy to finally see his mission completed. Another goal accomplished, and this one without any casualties! Ratchet was still reeling from Qwark's comment and, combined with his earlier win, boosted himself up a bit. He could be as great as Captain Qwark – Maybe even better! He wasn't quite sure yet, but Captain Ratchet had a nice ring to it...

"Hey, pal!" Ratchet froze, then turned back to face the security guard from earlier. The only difference was, now, he was holding two bagels and a coffee, "Here. I woulda gotchya a cup a' Joe, but I wasn't sure a lightweight like you could handle black. Thanks for the relief," He sighed, "Too bad it hasn't gotten me fired yet. Ah, well. Back to standing in front of a door. Yippee."

Ratchet gave the man a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, "Hey, it's not so bad. I overhead Qwark say he's leaving tomorrow so... there's something."

"Yeah, whatever," He patted the Lombax on the back, "See ya, kid."

After farewells were done with, Ratchet, with a carefully retrieved Clank on his back, took off and escaped the compound without notice. Mostly thanks to Ratchet's guard uniform. The REAL border patrol would probably wake up in a few minutes... probably. But the most important thing in their agenda was complete. There was no more reason to worry.

* * *

"So, ya figure out what caused that flooding, Reeger?"

"Think I got it," The Rilgarian plumber answered, digging around inside the pipe that had been, just hours ago, spitting out water at a dangerously high velocity, "There we go... Ah!" He grimaced at the sight of the device, "Yuck, it's all covered in gunk... hmm, looks like some sort of transmission device."

Reeger's partner took a look at it, "Hey, yeah, I've seen that before. Remember that Senior prank day when a bunch of the kids attached a number of these things into the school's plumbing? They were able to flood the school with the press of a button."

A grimace went through Reeger at the memory, "Yeah, that was not fun to clean up. But who'd wanna flood a sewer?" In the end, they both shrugged and decided it was probably some kid trying to pull a prank. And since nobody actually visited the sewers on a regular basis, the duo decided against filing a police report.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: THAT RACE! IT JUST- UGH!

I mean, the rest of the chapter was kinda easy. It just came to me. I guess that was to make up for my complete lack of racing knowledge. So, ya know what? Screw commentary, I'm going home...

(Three days later)

I'm over it.

Daily Lore: Reeger's name was originally Bob. Then I remembered the Butch scene and hastily named him after a Mass Effect character. The more you know.

What did I do good on?: Not dying... haha. No. Probably the Qwark scene, if I had to chose. Or maybe the scene with Butch. Ya see, the more stoic and useless a character is, the more you can play around with them. So, eh, you decide which scene was better.

What did I fail on?: Please don't make me remember that horrible race scene... it wasn't so much that it was bad, though it probably is, but it took me forever to write. I'm serious, it took three times as long as every section after that to write the race scene. UGH, I am not looking forward to the Gadgetron planet...

Random Question for Reviewers: Can you feel the sunshine? ._.


	9. Umbris: Betrayal

"_The trap has been laid, sir."_

"_Excellent... and you're sure those two buffoons will fall for it?"_

"_The robot, no problem. For all your worries, he's nothing but a pathetic little sap. I am admittedly a little worried about the Lombax... he's a bit smarter than the robot... but all it took was a few sweet words and he caved like a jenga tower, so I should be able to handle him."_

"_And you are absolutely certain you can take care of them?"_

"_Don't worry. I've got it ALL under control..."_

"_You better have. Drek, out."_

* * *

Qwark gave a valiant grin towards the duo from his helicopter, levitating high above the ground. Just below him were Ratchet and Clank, standing at the beginning of what looked like a very long training course. Ratchet's ears were flattened instinctively against his head at the loud whirling while Clank merely watched expectantly from his side. With a bullhorn pressed to his lips, Qwark began to yell down at them.

"Hello, down there!" His voice boomed. Ratchet winced instinctively, "Can you hear me? Can- can you hear me? Thumbs up if you can hear me," The simple gesture came from Ratchet, nursing his ears with his other hand, with Clank mimicking him a moment later, "Okay! Welcome to Captain Qwark's thirty-second secret base! Here, we ensure that new members of Team Qwark are up to par with our ideals, intellect, physical prowess and, most importantly, devotion to the cause!"

Having partially recovered, Ratchet tossed a glance at Clank, "Well, you certainly have that last one, eh, Clank?" He was ignored in lieu of Captain Qwark.

"Complete this course and make it into the heart of the base alive and THAT will prove your worth!"

Ratchet frowned, somewhat perplexed. Worth? Didn't their quest to find Qwark prove that they were worthy? And what was that part about coming back alive? "HEY!" He yelled upward, "HAVEN'T WE DONE ENOUGH ALREADY?!"

"WHAT?!" Qwark yelled... into the megaphone. Ratchet's ears twitched at the sound, but he shook it off and yelled up again.

"I SAID," He called up, "HAVEN'T WE-?!"

Once again shouting into the microphone, Qwark responded, "SORRY, CAN'T HEAR YOU! YOU'LL HAVE TO TELL ME LATER!"

"LATER?!" Ratchet shouted incredulously. Did he not hear his own words? "WE MIGHT BE DEAD BY THEN!" But Qwark was already leaving, only shouting back a 'what?' that, even through the megaphone, was only numbly heard. With a sigh, Ratchet turned to the robot at his side, who had been surprisingly quiet throughout the event.

Probably so he could listen to Qwark uninterrupted, Ratchet mused. Clank seemed convinced that Qwark was some sort of God-send miracle worker. To this, Ratchet rolled his eyes. There was no such thing as a 'true' hero, he'd learned long ago. Qwark came close enough, he guessed, but to assume he could fix all of the galaxy's problems was ignorant. There was a lot of work left, even after they finished this course. But still... it certainly wouldn't HURT to get Qwark's help. He did say that he needed Ratchet and Clank, too...

"Alright, let's get this over with," The organic mumbled to the synthetic, who blinked.

Ratchet hoisted Clank onto his back who, much to the Lombax's dismay, began talking, "Are you ready, Ratchet? This is the final challenge before we face up against Drek. Not that it will be hard," Ratchet rolled his his eyes, "with Qwark by our side. In fact, our quest should be relatively straight forward from now on."

"Good," Ratchet muttered, not without a hint of bitterness. He doubted it would be as simple as the robot claimed; nothing in his life ever was.

* * *

"_Hehe... yes, good, very good. Come closer, 'heroes'. I'm ready for you."_

* * *

"Primed Type 49-Mines," Clank picked out of his memory banks upon scanning the spiked orbs, "Do be cautious; they explode upon contact."

Ratchet hurled his wrench at the thing and, surely enough, it exploded like a Gadgetron Boom Box, "Yeah, thanks," Muttered the Lombax, "That would've been... bad."

But those things were all over the bridge. They circled around the perimeter of what looked to be a steel fortress just up ahead of the duo, in a manner that appeared to be pre-programmed. Both watched with critical eyes. Clank examined the situation with the mind of a logical machine. His internal counter measured the amount of time sphere A took to make one full rotation. Judging from that amount of time in comparison to how fast Ratchet moved under non-stressed situations, he would say they had a pretty good chance. To Ratchet's less analytical, more emotionally driven brain, however, it must have seemed impossible.

In fact, Clank wasn't entirely wrong. Ratchet saw the floating orbs and pretty much got an image of gory Lombax flesh scattered everywhere stuck in his head. The very thought of it caused an involuntary shutter to run through his body. But Ratchet, being Ratchet, forced the fear into the pit of his gut and started searching for the pattern of movement. For any single deviance to their movement that could help him get through. He noticed that they continued in one direction at a singular speed. Maybe he could get them all to explode at once...?

Ratchet's ears twitched as Clank's voice whispered in a decibel low enough for even him to just barely hear, "I believe that I have determined the timing necessary to pass through this area without attracting the attention of the patrolling 49-Mines. When I tell you to run, run for the door as fast as you can. If I tell you to turn around or jump or duck, I need you to listen to me. Do you understand?"

"No," Deadpanned the Lombax, "Why don't you explain to me how the relaying of different instructions work?"

Once it got through to Clank that Ratchet had not been serious with his suggestion, he merely gave a sheepish grin and allowed himself to be re-strapped to the Lombax's back, "Alright, ready..." Ratchet got into a starting position, ready to sprint, "Go, Ratchet! Run!"

Off the Lombax went, straight into the jaws of the beast. When he approached the line, Clank shouted at him to duck and slide and so he did, straight under the line of mines and towards the doorway. Unfortunately, to their dismay, the large metal gate was locked. Encoded with a YM7452 lock system that, unfortunately, was not Gadgetron. Clank would have to hack into the system directly in order for them to pass. And to evade the mines which were now beginning to catch onto their little bypass.

"Clank?" Ratchet asked, stepping away from the slowly approaching mines. They'd really cornered themselves here, "Ah, now what?"

"Give me a few moments to hack into the gate's regulation system. I am certain that I can bypass the entry parameters and get us in."

There really wasn't much choice, Ratchet realized. They were blocked off from the bridge that had led them over here and there was nothing but a long chasm that no organic really had any hope of surviving. A robot might, but would end up immobilized and would rust down there. All he could do was pin his hopes on Clank and, really, he didn't like that. The mines were getting dangerously close... "Um, Clank...?"

"Just a few more moments..."

They were getting far too close. Much more and they'd be cut off from the exit... "Clank, seriously, we need to hurry up."

"I know. I am almost there."

Dammit, how is that stupid robot keeping his calm?! And the mines... the mines were past the gate. He and Clank were officially trapped. One explosion and they were done for. But one explosion... and the mines were done for as well. They were close enough... just one proper throw... Ratchet's wrench left his hand in the next moment, spinning haphazardly into the nearest mine as it began to approach the point where the duo would have been caught in the explosion. As expected, it set off the mine immediately behind it, followed by the mine immediately behind that one. And they continued, a series of spontaneous combustion after spontaneous combustion. A chain reaction, surrounding Ratchet and Clank with fiery flashes of booms. And while Ratchet's ears folded into themselves, he found the sight oddly... compelling. Red really was such a pretty color...

Once the wonder of the explosions surrounding them had passed, Clank quietly announced that the hacking process was complete. It was silence, all around then, and neither of them wanted to break the spell. Ratchet because of the serenity; how long had it been since he'd had this kind of peace? And Clank – well, he was not quite sure what compelled him to keep silence. Perhaps it was simply the relaxed, almost serene look on Ratchet's face. Or maybe it was the large amount of feed devices he could suddenly sense around them, sending this moment straight to Captain Qwark. Whatever the case, he felt he should remain silent.

After a good, long moment of this, something on the ground caught Ratchet's eye, "My wrench!"

The poor tool had been caught in the first explosion, and the subsequent series of detonations. It was now charred, blackened with soot and bent slightly with the force. But it was a tool meant to work on powerful machines; the damage, in comparison to what the bombardment could have done, was close to nothing. But that didn't mean the damage was contained. It's internal tuning computer had been badly damaged, and one of the arms of the wrench was crooked and wobbly, meaning it could not be used or reset. In a way, the thing would never perform as intended again. Clank surveyed all of this and stated with a tone of detachment, "Do not worry. The wrench can be replaced as soon as we-"

"Not on your life, pal," Clank flinched slightly. The tone of the Lombax had taken an almost hostile turn, "It just needs some repairs, that's all. She'll be good as new tomorrow morning."

Truthfully, Clank noticed that none of the damage was irreparable but found that said repairs would be... unproductive. It was an old style of Omniwrench and, with Captain Qwark by their side, the Lombax would certainly be able to easily obtain a newer model. There were ones, nowadays, that even had experimental mods, such as adding a jolt of electricity to attacks. Therefore, it was illogical to hang on to the broken old one. But Ratchet had never sounded so serious before. Clank made a mental note of this – as part of his examination of the odd ways of the organic – and nodded, following Ratchet mutely through the doorway.

* * *

"_Blast it! They got past Door One! Well, then, Lombax, let's see how you handle... this."_

* * *

"This has got to be a trick," Ratchet's eyes narrowed at the seemingly simple trial; a maze of see-through barbed wire. It was inane, really, compared to the corridor full of bomb-spewing turrets, yet here it was, existing indolently alongside the far deadlier traps. There was something inherently wrong with this, something that set off an alarm in the Lombax's head. This wasn't right, this didn't fit, what was going _on _here?

Clank, on the other hand, seemed far less fazed by the out-of-place maze, "Well, we will have to go through this area regardless of whether or not it was a trap. Move forward, but do so cautiously. We have no idea what kind of invisible trappings await us within."

They took no more than one step into the maze before they were fired upon.

Suddenly, it made sense. Barbed wire as opposed to actual walls. The criss-crossing, almost maze-like array. There was a turret at the opposite end. They didn't make it through fast enough, or trip up somewhere, they were toast. Brilliant, really. It got Ratchet thinking as to what architect would consent to building something as dangerous as this. How much would something like this cost anyways?

But, no time for that now. The stream of bullets was getting dangerously close, so Ratchet moved into gear and raced ahead, mindful of the spiky fencing surrounding him and the jet of deadly fire quite literally on his tail. Ratchet kept low to the ground, ready to dodge at any given time. Then he ran into the wall.

Well, not wall, per say. But the barbed wire wasn't exactly an improvement. It dug into his fur and skin, prickling into his arms and chest and ears. There were sensations of a light liquid running through his fur, and the shot of pain immobilized him for an almost irreversible moment. Thankfully, he was able to yank himself away from the wiring before the stream of bullets caught up with him. From that moment on, though, he was cautious to keep an eye out for more surprise dead ends, ignoring the sting as he sprinted.

Clank, behind him, got a first-hand experience of what it is like to have a stream of plasma bullets chasing you. The yellow lights crept dangerously close a one point – there was a brief moment where Ratchet paused to detangle himself from a brief encounter with the barbed wire and the line of fire reached less than three cubits from their physical beings. It was a close call that kept Clank's eyes wide and unable to move from the firing following them.

When they reached the end, Ratchet, who had made a clear point of keeping his wrench out of harm's way until he could fix it, personally used it to smash the turret in at the end of the maze.

* * *

"_How did that not get them? Fine, then. Let's try something a little different..."_

* * *

It stared at them from just underneath the surface of the water.

Ratchet, in response, stared back.

Clank just seemed bemused by the invisible exchange. Wondering if Ratchet was attempting to identify it, Clank started speaking, "That is a Pool Shark – a specially bred aquatic creature that is genetically designed to be as vicious as possible. They are oft used as guards or deterrents to keep people away from classified areas and, despite their naturally aggressive behavior, are easily trainable."

"I know, Clank," The voice of the Lombax was tired, as if he was addressing a child, "I read the pamphlets from Blackwater City, too."

The robot blinked. He had thought that it had actually been a very informative pamphlet, "Alright, then. What are you trying to do?"

"...figure out how to get past this thing without being eaten," The Lombax answered after a short pause. He looked up towards the robot, "Unless you'd rather I jump in their and get swallowed whole?"

Actually, Clank would rather avoid that, if he could. Instead, he gave a quick inspection to the area around them and, finding his target, gave Ratchet a reassuring smile – or at least, that is how he hoped it came out, "Actually, I have a slightly better idea. Come, look at this," After a moment of hesitation, the Lombax got to his feet and followed as Clank lead them to their destination: a small pipe, "This is a maintenance drainage pipe. Using a suction hose and a portable storage device, water is removed from this area so it can be cleaned or repaired. We can use it to drain the water out of this area so we may pass through."

"Great idea," Ratchet stated, and managed not to sound sarcastic about it, "Any idea how we're gonna get the water out? We don't have any suction devices."

"There is another option," Verbally established the small 'bot, "A rather recent invention which attaches a suction device to a portable water recycling device. Portable and easy to use. It is called..." There was a pause, though Clank could not tell its purpose. It just felt... right, "...the hydrodisplacer."

Clearly Ratchet was struggling to remember where he'd heard that before. When if finally did come to him, the grin on his face could not spread any wider, "Well, isn't that handy? Toss it to me; I'll take care of this."

One brief explanation later, Clank got to see the device in action for the first time. Water drained at a rate unbelievable to the robot, sucking into a space seemingly too small to hold all of the liquid matter. As the water cleared, the sharks seemed to sense the danger and retreated to the bottom of the pit, which did not help them for long. The liquid cleared and some of the lucky ones ended up in small puddles where they could still breath. The others just flopped around uselessly, gasping for breath.

Ratchet, standing next to him in the next moment, frowned at the sight, "...let's get moving."

On this, they most definitely concurred.

* * *

"_What the- where did they get THAT?! I thought those things weren't even on the market yet! Grr...looks like I'll have to take care of these pests... personally."_

* * *

"Okay, you gotta admit, THAT was pretty cool!"

Ratchet couldn't stop grinning. But then again, how would you react upon defeating six walking sharks with nothing but a pipe you had hastily pulled off the wall? Clank, still on Ratchet's back, pondered the 'coolness' of that last sequence of attacks. Granted, the sharks being able to walk had been unexpected, but Ratchet had reacted in seconds, sending the things into the ground with a loose pipe. It had been resourceful, Clank would comment, but 'cool'? What was 'cool' anyways?

Then, the pondering stopped. Because straight ahead of them, standing patiently with his hands folded behind his back, was Qwark. At this point, Clank pulled off of Ratchet's back, landing on the metal floor with a slight 'clank' and racing ahead. Ratchet followed at a more leisurely pace, keeping his eyes open for one last trap that might pop out at them. It was the end of the course, and there didn't appear to be, but it was still better safe than sorry. Especially considering the deadlier traps they had faced so far. Thankfully, nothing appeared to have been set up. Still...

Qwark grinned from the edge of the small floating platform. There was something unnatural about the look, though. It was forced, just like it always seemed on the holovision. This slight change made Ratchet tense, "Welcome, both of you," His grin was still wide and fake, but his voice was low and harsh, "It seems that you both have completed my obstacle course, AND in record time! Congratulations! To be honest, I wasn't sure you were going to make it, but the two of you seem to have a habit of proving me wrong."

The robot to his side seemed to have no trouble finding sincerity in Qwark's words, Ratchet noticed, but there was something about the tone that set off the Lombax's internal alarm. He reached for his wrench then, upon realizing it was broken, covered the movement by placing his hand on his hip.

And the Captain continued speaking, "What you see before you is the Ring of Heroes," His hand waved over said circle, which glowed blue at Qwark's words, "It is an initiation ritual within Team Qwark for all new members to enter the circle! Step forward, newcomers, and relish in the reward you so justly deserve!"

His voice dipped on the word 'deserve', going deeper and sending a shiver down Ratchet's spine. This wasn't right. Something was horribly wrong. Clank, however, did not seem to notice anything amiss and merrily (if 'merry' could be used to describe anything the robot does) made his way into the center of the blue light. He looked alright, but Ratchet still hesitated. Something was wrong in every meaning of the word.

"Ratchet," The robot managed to mix a scolding tone with an excited one at his hesitance, "this is no time to become cautious. Our goal is finally at hand!"

The worry slipped out, before Ratchet could stop it, "I don't know... there's something fishy about this..."

"You'd do well to listen to your little metal friend, Ratchet," The Lombax jumped at the unexpected words. Qwark's voice was no longer just deep; it was threatening. Captain Qwark was threatening him? This only further pushed Ratchet away, and he took a step back as the hero continued, "After all, your destiny is finally at hand. You are going to join Team Qwark."

The robot rushed out of the circle to grasp his hand, surprising both Ratchet, whom had never seen Clank aggressive before, and Qwark, though it seemed to be more of a pleasant surprise on that account, "And we are finally going to stop Chairman Drek, Ratchet," He pulled the Lombax, still stunned from Clank's spontaneous boldness, into the circle, "All of our worries are over! The galaxy is saved!"

A spark of delight entered the Captain's eye as Ratchet pulled his hand away from Clank's, noticing how the lights were fading, "Thank you for all your help, Team Qwark Agent Clank," The robot beamed at Qwark in response, "You have proven just how intelligent and strong you really are," With a widening grin, the hero pulled a remote out of his back pocket, making Ratchet's eyes widen. With a single press, the 'Circle of Heroes' disappeared below their feet and they fell.

They fell for what felt like a long time, even when in reality it was nothing more than a few minutes, when Ratchet's back collided with the ground. From the shoulder blades down, pain spread, causing him to bite his tongue, lest he scream. This wasn't helped at all when Clank, who had the luck of being able to float down carefully, landed on his chest. As quickly as he could, Ratchet pushed Clank off of him, screeching at the stupid metal robot. Didn't he see what just happened?

Qwark flew after them, laughing. Laughing! The Lombax growled, picking himself up. Suddenly, the pain seemed less important than getting that stupid, _stupid_ laugh out of his head. Qwark's voice was suddenly grating his skull and with it other, unwelcome voices. Voices that should have been chased out a long, long time ago. It was all Ratchet could do to keep his body from quaking at the thought.

"I love it," The man in the mask purred, causing Ratchet's ears to straighten, "when a plan comes together."

Clank's eyes narrowed, inspecting Qwark with an almost sad curiosity, "I... I do not understand. What do you mean?"

Was this guy serious? Ratchet wasn't sure whether to be mad or just stupefied at Clank's response. Incredulously, he snapped at the robot, "Are you serious?! You don't drop someone down a pit because you want to have tea with them! You do that when you want someone dead! And guess what?" Clank didn't get the opportunity to guess, "He's going to kill us!"

The smirk on Qwark's ugly, stupid mug widened, if even possible, "Well, we can see where the brains in this duo of 'supers' lie. Unfortunately, you're not completely right. I'm not going to kill you," Ratchet's brow raised in confusion. Wasn't that the purpose? "HE is."

The growling caught Ratchet's ears before the beast itself caught his eye. It was large and green, with sharp horns and a small pair of wings that he couldn't possibly use to fly. The large beast struggled against the bonds that had probably been specifically designed to hold him. How long would they continue to do so? Not much longer, he assumed, and not just because they becoming weak.

"But... why?" There was desperation in Clank's voice; a quiet fear buried under confusion.

In response, Qwark merely scoffed at the 'bot, as if his question was offensive. His tone turned to one of childish mimicry, "'But... why?' Do you realize how pathetic you sound, you broken air conditioner? I am the new spokesperson for the new Blargian home world! I'll be paid in the billions for the venture, and Team Qwark will be back in business! You don't understand; no one needs a hero anymore. There's no money in the business! Now this... this is what will put me back on the map. Except for two little obstacles... Blargian public enemies number 647 and 648."

Ratchet ground his teeth. The lies, the laugh, the hopeless devotion of Clank; it was all finally accumulating into one solid, burning rage, "You're gonna regret this, Qwark. Don't think this is over."

"Oh, it's not yet," Qwark responded, then smirked. Ratchet's ears flicked at the sound of crumbling stone, "but it will be shortly."

And then the chains broke.

The large green monster let out a large cry of outrage, charging forward. Qwark, seemingly content with this turn of events, flew off, to where Ratchet didn't know or care. Wherever it was, he'd find it later. For now, though, the Blargian snagglebeast took top priority. Pipe at hand, Ratchet's eyes narrowed dangerously, sizing the thing up. It was tall, muscular and he was without his wrench. Under normal circumstances, they were doomed. But blind rage can do a lot for a person. Ratchet charged at the thing with no hesitation, leaving behind a still bewildered Clank.

The oversized beast howled, then met Ratchet in a head-on charge. Even enraged, the Lombax knew it wasn't a good idea to just allow the thing to run into it. He'd be squashed before he could even land a blow. Instead, he ducked under the creature, turning as he passed it and skidding to a gentle halt. With a loud battle cry, he ran, using its leg as a wall and running up shortly before digging the claws of his feet into its back. As expected, a painful screech tore from the throat of the beast, something which made Ratchet grin darkly. Why were people so scared of these things again?

Without much hesitation, he climbed to the top of the beast, scrambling up using the crevasses in its back made by misshapen, overgrown muscles. He clutched tightly to the beast's neck as it stomped around violently, trying to shake off the little bug climbing up its back. But Ratchet was far more stubborn than your average tick, and the first moment he got, Ratchet scrambled up further. Until finally, he was at the perfect position and started pounding the pipe into the monster's head over and over again. It howled, but Ratchet was too focused to do anything besides beating the thing's head in.

It started stumbling, the monster, swaying to and throw as Ratchet's pipe dug into its skull. Ratchet kept on, even as it swayed dangerously close to the lava. Only when it started falling did the Lombax realize the potential danger and quite literally jumped ship, off onto the rocky structure. The creature sunk below the surface of the red, glowing liquid, and all Ratchet could do was numbly watch, his breath coming out heavy and hard.

"Ratchet," Spoke a voice he REALLY didn't need to hear right now, "You should know... the Blargian Snagglebeast has incredibly resilient skin. It would not surprise me if it were to..."

As if on cue, the ugly thing surfaced. It's skin was deformed by burns, but still there. It howled in pain and made its way to the shoreline.

"...come back up?" The Lombax guessed sourly.

It limped back onto the rocky walkway, but by now, the Lombax's rage was mostly sated. Mostly. He approached the disfigured beast as it finally fell to the ground after a few futile attempts to walk around the area. He gave it a cold look before deciding, mercifully, to kill the thing with a final, even harder bash to the head, knocking it out in one swift blow. The body was limp, and Ratchet only checked to make sure it was still breathing before hitting it again, even harder. This time, the breathing stopped.

Turning, Ratchet met the eyes of the robot, which were wide and almost disbelieving. But Ratchet couldn't bring himself to care. He was tired and aching and Qwark's words still rang in his head. What he needed now was to get out of this pit and put an end to that miserable 'hero' that made his head hurt from the mere thought of him.

"I..." Clank seemed to sense the tension, but obviously didn't know what to make of it, "I can sense the existence of an emergency exit nearby. It leads directly into Qwark's hangar," Ratchet didn't respond verbally, but nodded and the two walked on in silence. Ratchet tossed the occasional glance at Clank, unsure what to make of the 'bot now. Clank just stared ahead, unwilling or unable to look at Ratchet, for whatever reason. Someone else might say he was still in shock, but Ratchet came to the bitter revelation that this was how most of their time together was spent. The robot either blindly searched for Qwark, made demands or stayed silent. He tried to keep his mind from wandering further down this trail, but it was pointless. Already, the images and connections were being made.

It was with a sour heart that Ratchet took note of the singular ship in the hangar, belonging to the beloved Captain himself. It was perhaps the most high-tech piece of equipment he'd ever laid eyes on and he couldn't bring himself to gush over it like he would any other ship he'd ever seen. This only increased the burning rage in his gut. Friends, family, jobs; those things always managed to elude his understand, but ships were the one thing he got in this entire universe, and Qwark had taken even THAT from him. His first, immediate thought was to get the heck out of there, but of course Clank held him up by walking straight to a computer up against a wall.

The green optics narrowed on the screen as Ratchet leaned against the wall, awaiting the first opportunity to get out of there. Finally, he spoke, "There is nothing of substance on this computer," Ratchet rolled his eyes. Surprise, surprise, "However, it appears there is an infobot account under Qwark's name. I believe I can hack it and send all of Qwark's transmissions straight to us. Shall I?"

"Go ahead," Ratchet's eyes bore into the 'bot, "After all, you CLEARLY know best, don't you?"

The robot looked hurt (or, at least, as hurt as he'd ever seemed), but Ratchet couldn't quite bring himself to care. While he wasn't completely responsible, Ratchet felt the android should at least take some of the blame. After all, his back had begun aching again, now that the adrenaline had mostly worn off.

Before they could continue, however, Clank's infobot zoomed out of his chest compartment, unprovoked, with a beep. Qwark's infobot account had received one new message. Without any more warning, it had commenced playback.

* * *

_SOS: We're pinned down! I repeat, pinned down! Ships are hammering our position from the aisle and they're confirmed Blargian! I repeat, confirmed Blargian! We need reinforcements!_

…

_Well, I need reinforcements. My entire crew went AWOL on me. Those cowardly sons of maggots – when I am done single-handedly fighting this war, I am SO court martialing those no good bast- _

_(BOOM!)_

_Whoa, that was a little too close! I'm not gonna last out here much longer! Requesting immediate backup, ASAP!_

* * *

The playback ended.

As per usual, the infobot made its way back to Clank, cooing at the larger robot before taking shelter in the familiar cavity of Clank's chest. As soon as the little 'bot was comfortably inside, Clank turned to Ratchet and stated, abruptly, "Those were Blargian ships, Ratchet. We need to aid that commando!"

For a moment in time, Ratchet stared blankly at the 'bot by his side. His arms and feet were numb, preventing him from moving at any point. What? After the whole Qwark betrayal they'd gone through, after everything that just happened... his first instinct was to jump straight back into the stray? Did he even have any thoughts not related to stopping Drek? Did... did having his whole world turned upside down mean anything to Clank?

No. No, this... this was it. This was the last straw.

"Ratchet?"

"I'm done," The Lombax stormed off, "I'm done, I'm... this is it. No more. I'm done. Go stop Drek yourself. I've got my own things to do."

With apparent alarm, the robot raced to keep up with Ratchet as he tried to walk towards the ship, moving faster than Ratchet had ever seen him move before, "Ratchet," He pleaded, "I know what has happened is not ideal, but we cannot afford to dwell on it. Innocent lives are being lost and we are the only ones-"

"-who can stop it," The Lombax finished with a snort, "Yeah, well, go do your little song and dance for someone else. I'm done. I've got my own agenda. Qwark is going to pay," At the last words, Ratchet's voice deepened. Yes, Qwark would pay. Dearly. This was the last time anyone, be it hero or villain or therapist, would dare to mess with Ratchet. He'd make sure of it.

And as for Clank... the 'bot was still attempting to plead him down, "Ratchet, please, this is not like you."

"Like me?" Ratchet turned around, incredulous, "What do you know about me, anyways? The only thing you ever cared about is Qwark!" In retrospect, Ratchet should have seen this coming. This type of thing always happened, "You don't know me!"

"..." The stupid thing had the gall to look sad, "I know that you will do the right thing."

Ratchet wished that he would just stop pretending to give a damn. At least the therapist, stupid as she was, had never deceived him by pretending to care. As horrible as she was, at least she had never assumed. And the worst thing was... Clank was right, in a way. He could feel his own inhibitions breaking down at the robot's words, no matter how much he urged his mind to take focus. They just kept drawing him back to that moment on Metropolis, where Clank had handed him a device stolen just for him. The stupid 'bot had believed that they'd needed it. He did that for no other reason.

But even so, as long as he could keep that image of Qwark in his mind, the hate would not die. So, with a snarl, he retorted to the 'bot, "Don't care. As long as I get to Qwark, I don't care," So, Ratchet pressed the ignition start and... nothing. Blast, what was wrong with this stupid thing?

"This particular model uses the Gadgetron Navcomp version 7.5. It requires a Robotic Ignition System to start," It took all of his remaining self-control not to scream in the 'bot's face as he hovered up to the wing of the bulky ship, "I will gladly start the ship for you – provided that, before you begin your inane quest for vengeance, you come with me to provide relief to that commando."

The anger parted, inviting in pure shock, "Are you... _blackmailing_ me?"

An almost surprised look flashed upon the robot's face, "I swear, I did not intend-"

"Whatever," The organic grumbled, really not liking that, despite everything, Clank really probably hadn't had that intention. But the effect was the same; he had a sort of aggravated irritation towards the 'bot, "Just get it and shut up; we'll be there shortly," But the worst part of all of this... despite the hatred he had for Qwark... despite the malcontent he felt for Clank... he couldn't deny that this was all his fault. He'd trust the 'bot. He'd put himself in that situation.

He wouldn't be making that mistake ever again.

* * *

Qwark had failed.

Drek knew without even asking that the man had failed. His eyes were downcast and his smile was just a bit too bright, attempting to be a victory smile. But underneath the facade was the rank stench of failure. He'd smelt like it since he'd entered the room. Drek stared out into space, and spoke aloud, "You have failed."

And, like the idiot Drek knew he was, the former super jumped. He apparently hadn't been aware that the Extreme Executive had known of his arrival, "Oh, sir. I wasn't aware that you were talking to me."

"Who else could I be talking to?" Drawled the Blargian, "The wall? But it appears that I might find more invigorating conversation there..." He mused, "But anyways. As for your failure..."

"Sir, I swear, it wasn't my fault!" The large man in green was practically begging. Had he not been so irritated with his failure, Drek would have found this hilarious, "I had this plan all thought out and-"

There was the problem. The Blargian leader interrupted Qwark, "You thought, huh? Need I remind you that I do the thinking around here? You smile into a camera and OCCASIONALLY do some damn hero work. You know, that stuff I actually legally hired you for? Now get out of my face," Drek spat, waving away the inferior man. But before he could leave, a thought occurred to the chairman, "and Qwark?"

"Yes, sir?"

His voice almost squeaked. He'd have a good laugh about this later, "The next time I send you to do a job, I expect you to do it right. You will report to the lower deck and supervise the training for the recruits. Who knows? ...you might actually learn something. Now, go. I'll call for you when I need you."

No, he couldn't count on Qwark to stop those two at all... he was going to need something bigger... and he had just the thing.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: DUN! DUN! DUN!

So, Qwark's a traitor, Ratchet's all bitter, and Clank really has no idea what to make of any of this! But you all saw this coming, hadn't you? So, I think I'm not breaking any hearts when I say... QWARK MUST DIE! EVIL! EVIL!

...Nah, just kidding. But this chapter was pretty good, I guess. It was paced decently and we got to know what, exactly, Ratchet had been feeling in this period of time. I guess I'm a little sympathetic towards Ratchet at this point. His in-game dialogue really isn't as harsh or mean as most people keep claiming it is. It's mostly just bitter. Makes me kinda sad.

What did I do good on?: Um... good question. Nothing in this chapter really stands out as 'amazing' to me. The quality is pretty stoic. So instead, here's a smilie face. :)

What did I fail on?: At the beginning of that last section, there's a paragraph that's from Clank's POV. Doesn't really make a whole lotta sense, seeing as the rest of the section is from Ratchet's POV, but whatever.

Random question for reviewers: Cola or Pepsi?


	10. Batalia: Blame

It was quite apparent to the small robot that Ratchet had never heard of autopilot. Unlike the courier ship they had been piloting earlier, Qwark's vessel contained an automatic piloting system which Ratchet only reluctantly allowed Clank to set, and even so, it was only so he could fiddle with his broken Omniwrench. The robot still failed to see the point in this venture, considering the ease with which they could obtain a new wrench, but decided not to provoke Ratchet, considering the Lombax's new found distrust of the small robot.

Hesitantly, Clank gave a short glance to the disgruntled feline in the pilot's seat. He was fiddling with the computer that calibrated the wrench, the only thing having to do with the broken tool that he appeared to be having trouble fixing. His tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth, eyes narrowed on the target of his attention; he was the picture of concentration. Or maybe he was trying, pointedly, to ignore Clank. Either way, he was doing a bang-up job of it, keeping silent since the brief, impersonal argument during which Clank convinced him to use the autopilot.

It was... unsettling.

Although he desired for the Lombax to return to the way he was before their earlier encounter with Captain Qwark, a moment burned into his memory banks as his first true 'bad memory', Clank quite honestly preferred their earlier fighting to the awkward silence they were ensnared in now. And to make matters worse, Ratchet seemed to have swapped his half-amused, half-indifferent attitude towards the robot with a single minded loathing towards everything that crossed his path. The ship? An oversized hunk of wasted metal, in Ratchet's distinguished opinion. A brave soldier in need of assistance? Just some obstacle in the way of the Lombax's revenge. Clank's quest to save the galaxy? An unimportant venture that took a backseat to Ratchet's retribution. The only thing that he seemed to care about anymore was getting Qwark and that broken wrench of his.

After a few more moments of the unbearable quiet, Clank turned on the three-dimensional holographic map and was pleased when he noticed their location in relation to their destination, "We are nearing planet Batalia, Ratchet. Estimated time of arrival is five minutes and thirty seconds."

The Lombax's brow furrowed, and he moved his head away from his precious tool to look at Clank, "About time. This hunk of metal's just barely worth more than Qwark's word... so that must make it pretty meaningful to _you_, huh?"

Clank blinked, "I do not understand why you keep bringing that up. It was an honest mistake on my part-"

"A mistake?" Ratchet repeated, as if he were first tasting the word and finding it bitter, "'It's a mistake' is one of the most overused, childish excuses I've ever heard. It's just a clumsy way to try and throw blame off of yourself after you've done something wrong and don't want to admit it. That's the type of excuse wife beaters and murderers use when they're caught and have run out of alibis," The Lombax snorted, displeased, "Not that you'd care, so long as they wear tights and smile."

Eyes narrowed, Clank retorted harshly, "That is not a fair comparison, Ratchet. The examples you have listed imply that the person in question knows what they are doing. I did not. And if I recall correctly, you believed in Captain Qwark, too," The response to the simple counter was not what Clank had expected. Instead of some witty comeback, the Lombax turned his ire towards the steering mechanism, focusing all the fiery rage trapped in his green eyes towards the innocent mechanism, a decision Clank suspected was made to protect the robot himself from the feline mechanic's animosity.

Finally, Ratchet gave Clank a hard stare and replied, not without a vicious bite, "At least I didn't drag my only friend down with me."

The rest of the ride, after this, was spent in silence, with Clank internally pondering the meaning of that last phrase the entire way.

* * *

Batalia was murky and gray. That was the first thing Ratchet noticed as they flew over the large, battle-torn area. It reminded him a little of Aridia and that really was not a good thing. His head ached at the mere thought; phantom echoes of the pain he had suffered on that planet. They hadn't even been here for a minute and he already loathed this miserable little corner of the galaxy. As much as Ratchet had loathed Veldin, this was even worse. On Veldin, he'd expected to be miserable. Out here... it was just another disappointment in his short, short life.

The landing pad was made for fighters; it was hastily scrapped out of solid rock and smaller than their ship required, but the ship landed upon it anyways. As a result, they touched down unevenly, the ship rocking and knocking them both around as it settled into its spot. A soft groan managed to escape the Lombax's lips before he grumbled aloud in annoyance, "Super. Just... fantastic. Why did I let you talk me into using the autopilot?"

There was no reply. Clank had already righted himself and was set to jump out of the ship. Upon touching ground, the robot turned and waited for the Lombax to disembark before speaking in that irritable monotone of his, "Our first priority should be to locate the soldier who sent off that distress signal. Considering the state of our location, I am concerned for his well-being."

"Well, color me surprised," The words came out bitter and firm, as though he were scolding the little robot. At this point, he just wanted to push the robot as far from him as possible, something that would already be difficult enough with Clank having to ride on his back if they wanted to get anywhere within a decent time, "Let's just get this over with-"

He didn't really have anything more to say, but that didn't mean he wasn't annoyed when they were randomly interrupted by who Ratchet soon recognized as the alien commando who had sent the distress message. Even despite his annoyance with the mission, Ratchet felt an inkling of sympathy for this man. That message had gone straight to Qwark, a so-called hero who would never come to his rescue. Had it not been for him and Clank, this man would have died here.

Any sympathy he might have had for this man, however, instantly went out the window when he screeched in a voice that managed to beat even Helga in terms of loudness. His howl sent the triangular ears downward, sound waves echoing throughout his skull. But the shear force behind the voice caused Ratchet to obey without question when is shouted in a high-pitch, "SOLDIERS! Stand at attention!"

As Ratchet assumed the position, back straight with his dominant hand up against his forehead in a hurried salute, he noticed Clank making the same gesture after a moment's hesitation. Great, he was being mimicked. Just what he needed.

And the commando continued talking, his voice lowering in pitch, "You two miserable deserters thought you could get away, did you? Well, TOO BAD!" His lips curled downward, scowling in anger as Ratchet unconsciously winced as the sudden pitch of the vocals assaulting his ear drums, "You two attempt to go AWOL again and I'll shoot you myself! Unless," His left eye twitched, "you're one of them..."

"Do I LOOK Blargian to you?" Ratchet snapped.

He was then forced to back away as the large soldier descended upon him, backing him against the landing's railing that separated them from a fall that would most certainly kill. The man's eyes met his own, then went up and down, examining and judging his body in a way that made Ratchet wish, not for the first time since leaving Veldin, that he'd invested in a shirt at some point. Finally, the man stepped back and snorted condescendingly, "Well, you're not a Blargian, but that's all I can say for certain. What are ya... some sorta mutated Cyclomonkey? A War Grok runt?"

"I'm a Lombax," He tried to make his answer angry, but it was far too familiar a question for him to work up anything but minor irritation for it, "Are you just going to threaten us or you gonna tell us what we're supposed to be doing?"

The commando didn't exactly seem happy, but he gave a disgruntled huff and backed down, allowing Ratchet to take his place next to Clank, "Fine," He growled, "See those bombers up there?" It was almost rhetorical; he could see the large Blargian ships in the distance from even his uncomfortable position against the railing, "As long as they're up there, I can't do jack squat about liberating this city. They're cuttin' off my transmissions to base and keeping up a blockade of the city. Sooner or later we're gonna either starve or bleed out. But," here, his tone changed, turning somewhat pleased, "I managed to rig up a turret in the center of the city, powerful enough to cut through those ships. Had to re-route the entire city's power, but it'll be worth it when we take back the base from the Blargians that chased me out."

To Ratchet's displeasure, Clank spoke up immediately without thought or concern, "Do not worry, sir. We will help you re-take the base."

The comment was rewarded with the first smile the duo got from the soldier, "Excellent! I'll forge on ahead, you two keep close behind. Just follow my lead."

"Well," Ratchet spat, mildly annoyed, "that happened."

He was granted a disapproving look from the robot, who narrowed his eyes in examination of Ratchet, "Do not be so critical of the man, Ratchet. Who knows how long he has been fighting this war by himself; he is probably suffering from a number of psychological stressors. The least we can do is help the man, considering our goals," At the defensive concern Clank showed towards this complete stranger, Ratchet's temper began to boil, and it hit a fever pitch at the mention of 'their' goals. He whipped around with such a speed that the robot he was facing flinched backwards.

"Well then, go do it! Go save the day, 'hero'! After all, you have such a perfect track record when it comes to leading people into battle! I mean, just look at the perfect success that was your last attempt!" He gave a pause as Clank merely stared up at him, looking smaller than he'd ever looked, "Well? Aren't you gonna go play the hero? Or are you too small and gullible to charge into battle?"

There was pure silence for a few moments. Then, "...well, at least I am not a coward."

Was that Clank's attempt at a comeback? It really had no baring on their situation, considering all they'd been through, and was more distasteful than anything after all he'd done for the 'bot. It wasn't even worth responding to, really. But it was inborn in Ratchet's nature to have the last word, so he responded harshly, "Yeah, whatever. The first opportunity I get, you're scrap."

Whether or not that had the effect he was going for was irrelevant. He held out his hand for the robot to grab and, though Clank hesitated, he eventually gripped it firmly and allowed himself to be pulled onto Ratchet's back. With the non-existent weight of the robot on his back and the firmer weight tugging at his heartstrings from within his ribcage, Ratchet set out yet again, almost repaired wrench ready for action. Honestly... he was kind of hoping for it. Anything to keep him distracted.

"It's not too long a journey to the base," Spoke the soldier on point at a more reasonable tone, "We have to go through some marshlands to get there, but it's not far. Barely a mile."

As he talked, the three passed by what appeared to be storage garages. The both of them were locked up tight; the one on the left, from the signs, was some kind of bank. The other appeared to be an emergency storage shed. The buildings reminded him of the minimalist architecture used in Kyzil. However, these were of a simpler format, having not been built into mountain sides. These were just your average stand-ups, and the design really didn't work for that. They were made for the oddity of integrated construction. Here, it just... fell flat; it didn't work.

Ratchet frowned at the buildings and hurried his pace to get past them. This wasn't something he really wanted to dwell on anymore than he had to.

* * *

The first sign that something was wrong – really wrong – was the explosion.

During the short time between meeting the commando and the even that could only really be called a catalyst, Clank had stayed quiet, pondering the recent changes in Ratchet's behavior while simultaneously keeping on the look out for enemies. He had yet to reach any logical conclusions as to anything, nor had he seen any enemies. It was then that he made a fatal mistake; he let his mind go lax for a short amount of time, barely a few minutes. But it was in this time that the missile he had failed to detect homed in on the bridge connecting this small warehouse district to the marshlands they needed to travel through in order to get to the guns.

The explosion took him by surprise, something that rarely happened. They were knocked off the bridge in a single movement that left Clank's mind scrambling to catch up to the events. They were just crossing... and then they were being tossed through the air, surrounded by red and orange, debris flying to either side of them... and then they were dangling above a large, rushing water surging below Ratchet's dangling feet and waving tail. He could faintly hear some panicked gasps from the Lombax himself as he struggled to pull himself up, eventually prevailing and slowly but surely lifting both himself and the robot onto the charred remains of the bridge. There was not much of anything Clank could do to help, though he found himself desperately wishing (and there was THAT word again...) that there was something he could do to help. But none of his rather limited abilities could do anything but hinder the Lombax's efforts, so he merely stayed stoic and watched as best as he could as Ratchet lifted them both up.

Considering their earlier arguments, Clank almost expected Ratchet to blame him for the event, and was surprised again when the Lombax said nothing. The only conclusion that the robot could come to in order to explain it was that Ratchet failed to realize that Clank could have sensed that missile, and would have had he been paying attention. It only served to add to his conclusion. Any diagnosis he had come to about Ratchet's change of personality went straight out the proverbial window; what was he supposed to think upon adding this new bit of information? In the end, it was added to his database for further examination at a later, better time. Right now he needed to focus his processors – as many as possible – on the current situation, lest this happen again.

On the opposite side of the bridge, the Commando frowned in concern, yelling over the ruins of the crumbling bridge, "Attention, soldiers! Status report!"

"We are unharmed," Clank called back, then belated realized he should have confirmed this with Ratchet before announcing it. This revelation was confirmed by the dirty look he received in response to his answer by the Lombax, who scowled before yelling back over himself.

"Unfortunately!"

The Commando frowned deeply, clearly not liking the Lombax's outburst, before calling back over, "There is an alternate route on the other side of this canyon! I can make it through the mountain pass and open it if you'll meet me there-!"

Already that was receiving a nod of rejection from Ratchet, "That'll take too long! Hang on, we'll be there in a moment!" He paused, "...unless Clank would rather us fall into that river down below?"

The words were whispered, low and almost threatening, so that the Commando could not hear them. He tried, straining to listen in with one hand cupped around the area where his hearing organs existed, but failed to hear what the Lombax said. But Clank was able to hear it perfectly, and responded in a manner that he hoped would not set Ratchet off, "That is alright. We can try your way."

"Glad I have your approval," Ratchet's tone was bitter and mocking, but failed to elaborate, once again, on his distance. Without much more warning other than him backing up to set up the jump, Ratchet sprinted forward and leapt from the torn edge of the burnt bridge to one of the damaged supports for it; the only one of them that was high enough where Ratchet even had the possibility of making the jump to the other side. Instead of simply doing that, though, he jumped towards the rocky walling to his right, using the rocks first to gain altitude, then to leap the remaining distance in a single bound, tucking and rolling as he landed. The pounding on his back had returned shortly after Ratchet had made the jump – several nanoseconds after, to be precise – and only increased throughout the crazed stunt. The connection between that, Ratchet's increased breathing rate and the insane stunt was confirmed.

"Well, shoot my foot and shove it down my windpipe," The Commando muttered in a voice tinged with disbelief. Clank took notice, but the message hidden in the vocals was lost behind the oddness of the words. The image of a bloody foot, with a bullet hole on the top, being forcibly eaten appeared, and try as Clank may to decode it, all he could do was blink at the imagery and wonder why Ratchet, who seemed somewhat squeamish, didn't appear to react to the words, "That was admittedly impressive, soldier. I don't recall them teaching THAT when I was in basic training..."

The Lombax shrugged, seemingly unaffected, "I'm from Kyzil Plateau. You gotta know how to climb if you want to get anywhere without a hovercraft."

While they conversed, Clank did some quick math; trigonometry, rate of descent, some other quick calculations, and was able to determine where the missile came from. His eyes trailed along a projected, invisible path, eventually coming upon the source of the missile; a large Blargian trooper with a RYNO mounted on his shoulder, prepared to fire again.

He only got a moment to shout out, "Incoming!" before he was suddenly pressed roughly against the ground, his mouth filling with dirt before he could comment any further. His audio processors picked up the sound of another explosion dangerously close by, and then the ground moved away from him as Ratchet sat up. Clank took this moment to remove himself from Ratchet's harness and flip around to get a better look at what was going on. Ratchet was shaking the mud out of his fur while the Commando himself sat a short distance away, examining the Lombax for injuries before looking back at the trooper with the RYNO, who was now aiming for another shot.

"Damn it," The Commando snapped, picking up his fallen helmet and placing it back upon his head, "No way we'd survive a direct hit by THAT thing. We need to keep moving!" And with that, he forced the Lombax back up to his feet and raced on ahead. Ratchet, without saying a word, followed close behind, wrench in hand and ready to use. They raced into the marshlands, all the while conscious of the trooper waiting for his shot. The trio kept close together, with Clank being designated – by the Commando, of course – to keep his sensors on the RYNO wielding soldier on the cliff. The Commando led the way, with Ratchet keeping his ears and eyes open for enemies. They sprinted from cover to cover, relying mostly on Clank's sensors and the Commando's knowledge of the area to determine where they would be safe. Eventually, they were out of the soldiers line of sight, with no way for him to reach them. When informed of this, the Commando gave a grin and patted Ratchet roughly on the shoulder, causing him to stumble forward some, "Fine work, men! Looks like we're in the clear-"

And then he fell.

The Commando had been hit in the back of the neck, hard enough for him to fall forward onto the ground. His gun was flung forward in surprise and standing behind him, brandishing a pistol of his own, was a Blargian trooper. Ratchet took a step back; Clank had no idea what to do. There was no on-board computer for this model, so hacking was out of the question. He was frozen again, with no idea what to do or how to save this man. Ratchet, on the other hand, leapt forward, grasping the fallen gun in both hands, pointing it vaguely in the right direction and firing. It all went by in a blur, and by the time Clank's processors had caught up, the Blargian soldier was lying dead on the ground.

The thumping on his back had returned, accompanied by shaking.

"Fine work, soldier!" The Commando picked himself up weakly, obviously still recovering from the blow. He clasped Ratchet's shoulder in one hand, and his smile softened upon noticing how tense and jittery the Lombax was, "Lemme guess, first kill? Ah, don't worry 'bout it, kid. It gets better," He frowned openly this time, "sorta. Anywhos, the fort entrance isn't far ahead. Keep close, now."

He took his gun back from Ratchet and forged onward, openly wary of enemies that could come out from behind. Ratchet clutched his wrench close. He was still tense, shaking some, and the thumping against Clank's back hadn't let up in the least bit. Once or twice he would let out a shaking breath, but still kept moving, slowly but surely. As they traveled, Ratchet calmed some, the thumping slowing slightly and the shaking going away altogether. It was only the way that his hands tensed around the wrench at every turn and sound that kept Clank conscious of something being wrong. What it was, he could not place, but it made Clank feel uneasy. This was not how Ratchet was supposed to be; the Ratchet he knew, for better or worse, was cool and confident. He would not get shaken over something like death, would he? Clank added this to his memory banks for later pondering, then resolved to keep his attention on the battlefield.

On the way to the city, they ran into three more Blargian soldiers, each one being dispatched by the Commando. Every encounter sent Ratchet back into the state he had been in after his first kill, and each one increased the intensity of the jitters by 1.5238458444 percent. Not noticeable to an organic, but easily picked up by the robot's external sensors. Upon being filed, it was noted that this increase of shaking and heart rate was commonly associated with the presence of enemies. A reaction to danger, then? He would have to do more research on this, when he had the free time.

He did not know why, but the robot felt relieved upon seeing the fort in the distance. This relief came as yet another oddity; why did he desire to hurry along when it meant having to go along with Ratchet's revenge-driven whims? Then his mind went back to the fallen soldier Ratchet had slain, and the origin of this desire did not matter. The faster they were completed with this mission, the better.

"Well, here we are, boys," The Commando nodded, then frowned, "But... something's not right. Why's the bridge down?" His frown deepened, "Unless..."

Unless the fort had been taken, Clank realized. They had arrived too late.

"Well, that's too bad," Ratchet spoke, leaning against a nearby wall. Clank blinked up at him, "I guess I'll be going, then. See ya-"

"Hold it!"

Ratchet paused.

"We're getting' into that base even if I have to throw you across myself!" The Commando cried, then looked around, investigative, "Ah, there!" His large finger rested upon a ventilation shaft that must have brought... air, apparently, into the fort, "Soldier, you must force open that ventilation shaft and crawl through to the other side. There, you'll have to open the bridge manually. We don't use computer systems to keep it operational. Too risky."

"Well, that's dumb," Ratchet muttered, and Clank realized they were both probably thinking upon his ability to hack. Had this process been computerized, they would have been through already, "And besides, I'm too big to fit into that. Hell, even the talking microwave over here," He briefly gestured to Clank, "wouldn't fit. Not gonna work, dude."

Clank scanned the ventilation shaft. It was made of a magnetic nickel alloy. They would be able to walk upon it, had they magnetic boots created and used commonly on Orxon-

_Coordinates: Planet Orxon unlocked._

Clank's eyes widened, "I believe there is a way for us to use the ventilation shaft to enter. There is a factory on Planet Orxon that creates a number of Blargian-friendly items, including Magnet Boots. All we have to do is infiltrate the factory and obtain them."

"And you didn't mention this earlier because...?" Ratchet frowned pointedly, looking somewhat upset.

"I only recently obtained this information. It was locked within my memory banks until now," The robot explained, simplifying it to the best of his ability. Would Ratchet understand the large amounts of technical information that went into such complex memory programming?

The Lombax snorted in response, "How convenient. Alright, we'll go pick up those shoes. You comin'?" Ratchet's attention now went exclusively to the Commando.

"Sorry, solider," The man shook his head, "but I have to remain here and keep guard. Try and take out the soldier with the missile launcher. But I wish you both good luck," He dug into his pockets, eventually relinquishing a map, "This will lead you to the alternate route. It's a little longer, but it'll take you past that soldier with the missile launcher with no complications. Good luck."

And with that, he walked away, taking cover nearby. Ratchet turned to Clank, now having no one other than the robot as company. Reluctantly, he held out his hand to the small 'bot, "Ready to go?"

With an affirmative nod, Clank was given a boost onto Ratchet's back and, with Ratchet leading the way and Clank navigating from behind, the two took off back into the marshlands, with Ratchet's notable tension only increasing as they dove back onto the battlefield.

* * *

Even though nothing jumped out at them on the way back, Ratchet was still wigged out.

After all, he'd just killed someone. Killed someone. It was hard to get those words out of his head. He'd just had to kill someone. Not even with his trusted wrench; he'd done it with a foreign weapon that had killed before. Every detail was imprinted in the mind; the blood, the twitching before he finally passed on... it wasn't at all like the other dead bodies he'd seen. They'd always been cold, bereft of life; they weren't struggling, for they'd finally found peace. His mind went back, idly, to the day he'd almost died. There hadn't been any struggle to hold onto whatever remained of his life. He'd just... fallen asleep. He'd assumed that had been what happened to the other dead people he knew. They'd just accepted their losses and fell asleep. Clearly, not all deaths were like that.

Clank's weight on his back, for the first time since Qwark, was actually a welcome feeling. It was foreign and real, keeping him from drifting back in time to that moment. Granted, he was still pretty upset with the robot, but today had been rough enough on the both of them that he didn't feel like starting anything. Maybe he'd even let Clank use the autopilot again so he get a little rest before Orxon. Even if it was only a few minutes, sleep sounded pretty good about now.

The alternate route took them through the mountains. It went through some caverns and involved some serious heavy-duty climbing. Ratchet could see, now, why they avoided this path. It was so twisted and convoluted that going through it almost doubled the time it took to get back. Not that he was complaining, though; mountain climbing was familiar. He still had half-faded memories of crawling around the rocky terrain, entering old mining passages that had been blocked off and going deeper and deeper 'til you found something REALLY cool. Or a dead end. Whichever came first.

"_Keep up, furball! Wouldn't wanna accidentally leave you behind!"_

Ratchet firmly told his memories to shut up. He'd had enough trauma for one day.

But it seemed as though the gods or fate or whatever ran the universe wasn't quite done screwing with them yet. As they approached their ship, it had been Clank who had detected the intruder and warned Ratchet under his metaphorical breath. As Ratchet approached their vessel, he made sure his wrench was gripped firmly in his palm before jumping atop the ship, surprising the intruder so that he fell to the hard ground below.

As he stood, Ratchet spoke with his voice slightly lowered, "What are you doing messing with _my _ship?"

Because no matter how stupid this giant hunk of metal was, or how irritable the painted on Qwark symbol made him, it was still their only method of travel.

The little maggot gave them a hard look, and Ratchet was able to pinpoint him as the same blue species as the Commando; probably one of the deserters. But there was something... off. A wicked gleam in his eyes that only became clear when he unexpectedly drew his gun and shouted at the duo, "Hands up! Put your hands where I can see them, now!"

Ratchet looked to his side, where Clank had dismounted. Reluctantly, the two held up their hands.

"Now, I'm gonna take this ship," He whispered, borderline growling, "and there's nothing the two of you can do about it, okay?" He suddenly switched tone, shouting, "I'm done with this damned place! I'm done! I'm getting out, now!"

The Clank started speaking, the stupid breadbox, "You cannot start the ship, sir. It requires a robotic ignition system, which I doubt you have on hand."

With a frustrated groan, the short brat took a glance on the two of them and grasped Clank by his hand, "Then you're coming with me! You're gonna take me to Metropolis, or I'll shoot," He held the gun to the robot's head, "I swear, I'll shoot!"

In that moment, he became distracted, turning to push Clank into the cockpit, and Ratchet made his move. He needed the robot to get to Qwark, after all. For that reason alone, or so he'd claim, he held his wrench high above his head and banged it down on the brat's unprotected head. The result was instantaneous; he fell down to the ground, gasping once before collapsing. It was over in a heartbeat, but that didn't start the pounding of Ratchet's own heart as soon as it was over.

Clank blinked in surprised, examining the fallen body, "He is unconscious," The robot spoke simply, keeping his irritable monotone, "Thank you for that."

Ratchet blinked, slightly surprised. Clank was showing gratitude? That... that was an anomaly. Unusual. It wouldn't be happening again. After all, Clank didn't seem to appreciate or recognize anything outside of his goal. This probably wouldn't be happening again, "Whatever. Don't think I did it for you," His attention was drawn to the body lying on the ground. He was probably a few years older than Ratchet, if he had been in the same platoon as that blue soldier from earlier, "So, what should we do with this guy?"

"I would first move him away from the afterburners," Another look revealed that Clank was right; the kid had landed far too close to the afterburner. Lest he be moved, he'd be horribly burned when they turned on the ship. And since Ratchet already had enough on his mind, he had to agree with Clank this time. So the body was moved to the side, where it would hopefully be found later. In the meanwhile...

"Turn on the autopilot, Clank," The Lombax commanded as he slid into the pilot's seat, "I need to take a nap."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank does not belong to me.

Authoress' Comments: Here is one thing I regret not being able to work into the chapter:

_"I have bigger fish to fry!"_  
_"Bigger than the galaxy?"_  
_"Well, different fish, anyways."_

That's actually kinda funny.

But yeah... don't have much else to say to this. Um... COOKIES!

What did I do good on?: I think I made Ratchet's feelings towards Clank a little more obviously complex. He's holding onto hatred for no other reason than he doesn't want to like Clank, 'cause he's all distrustful of everyone right now.

What did I fail on?: There are a few points in Clank's section where you might not be sure where he is. Yeah... I kinda didn't care enough to fix it, since it's not important, but you may be confused, since I don't clearly state when he is removed from Ratchet's back.

Random Question for Reviewers: Would you hold my rabid cat for me? Thanks. (Walks off)


	11. Orxon: Friendship

It was almost funny, how much of a contrast the sleeping Ratchet was to the one of the waking world.

He was so... quiet. The soundless atmosphere was powerful, overtaking the small robot and forcing him into silence so that the noiselessness could continue. The soft breaths and gentle movements of his chest seemed so much more enthralling and influential than his booming voice and menacing gestures could ever be. But there was something else... a helplessness to compound this unknown jurisdiction he possessed over the cabin. Stony, hard features melted into soft expressions of sadness and, for brief seconds, pain. The pain then faded back into sadness, but it was never forgotten. Every time it appeared, the expression left a fraction of itself behind – dull, barely noticeable – upon the Lombax's face, but the fragments blended and twisted together, and soon enough the torment would have a permanent residence on his face. A jumble of emotions sprung from Clank's internal mechanisms at the sight; some of them, like sadness, he recognized. But there were others, buried at the bottom of his storage compartment, that he could not quite translate. But what he felt strongest was fear.

After all, as peaceful as Ratchet looked, he was still Ratchet. Clank had to awaken him, now that they had arrived on Orxon, and poking the sleeping beast was never a good idea. Still, better than ratchet being unaware of the danger he would be in when Clank left, right?

Decisions like this were difficult. But all of the factors pointed to the same observation: Ratchet would die upon exposure to this planet's atmosphere. It was not like the mild fumes on Aridia; this was straight-up poison. Organics died upon breathing it in, and Ratchet could not protect himself in his somnolent state. So it was with some hesitation that Clank finally dug his finger into the Lombax's exposed underarm, causing a groan from the organic mechanic.

"Ratchet," Clank prodded verbally when the physical prodding alone proved not to be enough, "I need you to awaken for a moment. This will not take long."

Groggy, but conscious, the Lombax rose his head to meet Clank's eyes, his own still glazed over with moderate exhaustion, "What?" Even only partially awake, the robot noted, his tone still held an air of bitterness. Less than his earlier insults, granted, but still. It diminished Clank's hopes of ever returning to their pre-Qwark relationship.

Realizing that he was distracted, Clank forced the train of thought onto its correct rails, witnessing it chug along into the station as he spoke aloud to Ratchet, "Orxon, as it turns out, is a planet with a heavily toxic atmosphere. You cannot breath in the gases outside of this ship or they will seep into your bloodstream and spread throughout your entire body, causing a slow, burning demise," NOW the Lombax was awake, staring at the robot with wide, disbelieving eyes, "Therefore, I will have to leave the ship and secure the magnet boots on my own. If we had a device known as an O2 mask, we would have no trouble with this, seeing as these gases are not poisonous unless inhaled. However... we do not. So you will have to stay here. Make sure to cover your nose and mouth as I leave."

With this final caution, the robot pressed the button to open the cockpit. Ratchet held his hands over his mouth and nose uncertainly, though his lack of tiring activity left him with a comparatively short lung capacity. As soon as the cockpit was sealed and Ratchet gave him a signal that the poisonous gases had been filtered out, Clank set off into the depths of the facility, finding the factory's loading bay doors left wide open. They must not have locked up properly, which did not strike Clank as Blargian style. They were always so neat and organized, even if they did take things to an unnecessary extreme. This was oddity was taken note of, and Clank walked into the passageway with an edge of paranoia. If this was a trap, set up by his own memory banks, then... no, he would not think of that. If that information was wrong, then this entire quest was as good as finished. Instead, he marched on, taking note of the large, abandoned vehicles by either side as he walked on.

* * *

As Clank made his way deeper into the factory, a few other incorrect details came into view. There were broken transport pipes littering some walkways. Carts containing materials both hazardous and of the opposite variety were tipped over, spilling half-degraded materials onto the ground. There was moss and mod growing on the floors and walls. This factory had not been a part of the systematic shut-down of Orxon. It had been shut down beforehand, because of some other, unknown reason. Which quickly became known as Clank encountered a large vat of goop that information began pouring in from his memory banks. This factory was home to a swarmer nest. Small little creatures native to the Blargian home world that had a nasty habit of ganging up on their pray and ripping them limb from limb, each creature getting a share based on how hard they could pull flesh from bone. Oddly enough, the only emotional response Clank could get himself to feel towards this was some slight annoyance at his own decidedly selective memory. Why it was like this, he might never know, and that nagged him to no end.

What kind of sentient being did not even have control over their own thoughts and memories?

No... no. Mission, more important, Clank reminded himself in haste. Any pondering about his place in the universe could be saved for later, when the universe was actually safe for pondering. Until then, anything unrelated to the mission took secondary priority. His objective was to obtain magnet boots, and obtain them he would. No matter what.

So, when he came to a maintenance door, long since looked, he was not deterred in the slightest. If they had abandoned this place in such a panic that they could not secure their equipment or the last of their merchandise, then why would they have bothered to gather up their maintenance 'bots? There must have been at least one intact maintenance 'bot somewhere around here. All he had to do was search. Mapping the location of the door in his memory, Clank turned around and started down a hall he had, for the most part, ignored earlier, keeping his sensors tuned in hopes of coming upon one of the little robots the Blargians used for repairs. Finally, after an eternity of waltzing up the cold, desolate hallway, his sensors picked up something.

It was not a maintenance 'bot.

The swarmer lunged at him from behind a crate in the corner, growling menacingly as it pinned down the robot. Clank could do nothing but hold it back at its shoulders, staring straight into its tooth-filled mouth as it snapped down, again and again and again, until finally Clank gained enough sense of his situation to push it back and tackle it, holding it down as it, unlike him, struggled to gain some sort of upper hand against the robot. With no other choice, lest he be torn to shreds, Clank swung his fist into the monster's nose, hard as he could, and it screeched in pain before finally gaining enough strength to knock the robot off of it. This time, however, Clank was more prepared, circling the thing as it circled him, their eyes remaining locked. The creature pounced first, an attack which Clank ducked under to the best of his ability before tackling the creature himself, pounding his fist into its hide before it roared back and knocked him into a wall. For a brief second, Clank was vulnerable.

Luckily, the thing appeared to realize that Clank was an equal match for it, at the least, and scurried off with its tail between its legs. Clank watched, eyes blinking for a moment as he leaned against the wall. He could not move. It was as if his servos were refusing to respond, though that was not quite right. More like the message was not even being sent. This was his first solo fight, and it was still registering that not only had he fought, but that he had WON. He braced himself against the wall to keep himself from falling over.

…

Was this why Ratchet's innards pounded against his back so harshly? This sense of excitement and fear? Why was he feeling like this, anyways? Organics had hormones that heightened their senses while in danger. Clank had no such hormones, and thus should not have been remembering those past few moments with such intensity. It was not nearly as bad as his mind kept telling him it was – so why?

There was this buzzing from within him, and the moment Clank realized what it was, he opened his chest compartment, allowing the small infobot to escape for a brief moment. His first thought was that Qwark's infobot account had received a message, but instead of displaying a message, the infobot merely beeped at him in concern.

"I am alright," He reassured the small machine, reaching out to pet it – why, he was not sure, but the contact brought back to his legs the ability to move, "but thank you for your concern," Clank wondered, idly, what kind of concern Ratchet would show. None, probably, but he had still defended him from that soldier on Batalia, so... there was no telling how he would react to this kind of situation.

Still the small infobot bleeped and blooped, flying around his head in a panic. It took a moment to calm the small thing down, and once it hesitantly re-entered his storage compartment, Clank began walking further down the corridor. After all, just because he was not feeling comfortable after his first fight... ever... does not mean that the Blargian threat will stop for him. He needed to press on, no matter how hard it became. This was his quest and he would not fail it; no matter what.

* * *

The maintenance 'bot he finally found was a scared, rusted little thing. It was cowering in a corner, quite obviously terrified of the swarmers lurking the abandoned halls of the factory. The rust coated the sides of its head and parts of its little legs, and it gave a frightened little yip as Clank tried to close in, scurrying as deeply into its little junction as it could. But what caught Clank's attention was its frightened eyes, that just happened to glow the exact same shade of green as his own.

He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes sadly, "There, there, little one. It is alright. I am not going to hurt you."

The thing still looked uncertain. It broadcasted a wave of frightened thoughts; of being chased by swarmers, of tons of physical abuse, of being left behind to rot by his creators. The poor creature. Clank responded by transmitting as many comforting thoughts as he could. The one that got the poor little thing to look up at him, though, was the memory of his infobot, and how Clank took it in. It gazed up with a spark of hope in its green little eyes. He wanted to join in their quest, too. Anything was better than being stuck in this factory, rusting. Clank gave him a gentle smile and nodded. Any help would be valuable, no matter the source.

And so, the new team made their way through the factory. Clank was happy to have some company in this place. The smaller robot seemed happy, too, though it was more for the protection than anything. It sent gracious messages to Clank every few seconds and, while somewhat distracting, Clank could not bring himself to tell the little thing to stop. After all he had been through, he deserved to have a friend.

"_At least I didn't drag my only friend down with me."_

Clank frowned at the memory and shook it out of his head. Ratchet's line struck a chord, deep inside of him, and he really did not need to deal with it right now. He had bigger fish to fry... namely, finding those magnet boots so they could save Batalia. But where from there? Neither he nor Ratchet had any leads on their respective missions, so after this they would be at a impasse. Where would they go from here?

The little robot to his side beeped, and Clank realized he had accidentally transmitted that particular series of thoughts. Oops. But the maintenance 'bot seemed not to care. He jumped excitedly, cringing slightly when he hit the floor as his rusted servos struggled to support his weight, then told of a computer deeper in the base that still got mass transmissions from Blargian HQ. He himself had never seen any of the messages, but he would assume that there might be something interesting there. The only problem? The path leading there went through some of the most dense of swarmer nests. But Clank was confident, if he could convince Ratchet to accompany them, that the swarmers would be no problem. In fact, they may not even need Ratchet. Robots had no scent, so if they were careful, they might just be able to sneak past them.

He transmitted his gratitude for the tiny little thing, and was rewarded with a gentle nuzzle to his chest. Clank could not help but to grin, despite the rust that was chipping off onto his body. Having this little robot along would be a bit of a distraction, but so long as he kept his mind on his mission, it would not hurt to have him along. So, with a smile, they made their way down the hallway, to the sealed maintenance door, and went through, with Clank's head held high and the maintenance 'bot following him walking with only slight hesitance.

* * *

Clank's new friend had been incredibly generous with his help. Not only did he stick close by the robot, allowing for some much needed company, but he also provided Clank with a map of the factory, marked with areas where he had witnessed the formation of nests and other places of interest. Like a nanotech dispenser and some laboratories at the other end of the facility. That was interesting, and worth taking a look at. Later. For now, he and his new friend were going to keep going.

They kept watch for each other, just like he and Ratchet did. Upon any sight of the swarmers, the two would duck into crevices in the wall, hiding and communicating telepathically. He was not funny like Ratchet had been, but he was clever, in his own right, and he was sweet, saying all these nice things about Clank. It was, admittedly, a tad humbling to have someone speak to him like this. Every time a compliment fell from the little guy's mouth, Clank smiled genuinely and gave the littler robot an affectionate pat on the head. Then the enemies would clear out and they would begin moving again.

It took some time to climb through the factory, using broken platforms as substitutes for broken transporters. But eventually they made it through, to the observation tower where the Blargian overseers watched the workers with a critical eye, ready to liquify any employee not up to par with the standards the factory required. The once high-tech equipment was now old and dusty, having been unused since before Orxon was an uninhabited mess. But the room, upon being scanned, tested negative for organic lifeforms. Satisfied, Clank walked into the room, a smile lighting up his normally still features. This area included monitoring computers, research terminals and, more important to Clank, testing benches, where manufactured goods were tested before being shipped out. What a relief to finally come upon this area, which soon turned into delight as the magnet boots he had been searching so hard for appeared on a nearby table. With a smile towards his new friend, Clank made his way towards the table, picking up the boots... only to have them suddenly attach to his torso in a rather... suggestive manner. The maintenance 'bot giggled, transmitting some rather smug words across their wireless connection. Clank merely scowled in response and pulled them off, with some difficulty. It took all of his strength to keep the shoes from reattaching to his body and it was with great effort that he managed to open his internal storage compartment and shove the shoes in. At the same time, his infobot flew out, spinning slightly before pausing in front of Clank and expanding to show his entire screen.

One message from Qwark's infobot account.

Clank frowned at the address; Pokitaru. A popular vacation planet. It was probably some advertisement sent to a man seen with money to spare. If Ratchet got a hold of this, Clank knew what he would do. He would abandon their quest and head straight for Pokitaru, ignoring the imminent danger that the galaxy was in for the sake of relaxing or perhaps even defying Clank. No, the robot decided, he could not be allowed to see this. They would never get any work done if he was subjugated to Ratchet's whims.

His infobot blinked, wondering why he was not pressing play, then shrugged it off. After all, maybe he was simply awaiting his companion before watching it. That was logical. The maintenance 'bot merely bleeped, then shrugged. It was not all that important to him, so he decided to leave this matter in the capable hands of Clank.

Just as the infobot shrunk down to normal size, all three robots' sensors were assaulted by a flood of organic lifeforms. They were closing in from all sides, coming in fast and hard, and their targets were unarmed. As fast as he could, Clank called up the map and directed his small team towards the exit that would lead them back to Ratchet – only to be stopped by a flood of swarmers coming in through the opening. Every side bombarded the three with swarmers and, like any robots, they froze to contemplate the situation. It was Clank who broke out of this first, grasping the infobot and forcing it back into his chest compartment before grasping his new friend and pulling him along as he ran for cover. If they could find a place where the swarmers could not fit into – perhaps a ventilation shaft? But as they ran, he could feel it. The swarmers catching up to them, surrounding them, tripping them up.

Clank got lucky; he was knocked into a nearby corner, where he was moderately protected. The only bad thing about this was that he had a front row seat to watching the swarmers tear his new friend piece to piece, legs flying off and one loud bleep echoing through the room. Eventually, the swarmers departed, flocking away from the robot that failed to produce any edible meat for them and their larvae. What was left behind was a sad, broken machine whose eyes were dark and lifeless. For a moment, clank could not think of anything to say or do. All he could do was stand in front of the rusted little 'bot, numb. Eventually, it occurred to him that perhaps he should do something for the body. With a great amount of care, he cradled the metal body in his arms, carrying it over to the maintenance table and laying it down gently. He should really have said a few words, but he could not find any words suitable to his companion who, he belatedly realized, he did not know much about. Just that the poor thing had been suffering for so long. He could have been decades old, for all Clank knew, defective from rust and damage.

The poor dear.

After a moment spent in silent contemplation, Clank took one last look at the metal corpse and walked away, mind still in that room, overlooking that unfortunate, miserable soul.

* * *

"Welcome back, I guess."

Ratchet did not appear to be too irritable this afternoon. In fact, he was more pleasant than he had been after Batalia, which raised Clank's hopes a bit. But the Lombax was not looking at him; was not even pretending to care, really. He just must have been in a good mood. Well, good for him.

"Thank you," The robot spoke, regardless of Ratchet's disposition, "You will be pleased to learn that I have uncovered a working pair of magnet boots. The patented Blargian 'magneboots' are guaranteed to-"

"You tryin' to give 'em to me, or sell 'em to me?" Interrupted the Lombax, with a roll of his green eyes. Blinking, Clank opened his compartment and both relinquished the shoes he had almost died to retrieve and released his infobot into the small area beneath the pilot's seat. The shoes tried, once again, to attach to his body, so he quickly threw them across the small area into Ratchet's awaiting hands... only to follow moments afterwords, "HEY! I thought you were giving these to me. What the heck?"

Well, he certainly sounded grateful, Clank mused angrily. After all the robot had gone through to secure these, and Ratchet could spew nothing but bitterness? "They are magnetic," he explained, as patiently as he could, "I appear to be – ahem – attached to them."

The look on the Lombax's face softened some after that, and he painstakingly pulled the shoes from Clank's body. They were safely concealed within the confines of a cloth bag with the Qwark symbol on it. Clank, having been flung into the side of the ship without care, rolled his head back and slumped against the side of the ship. It was at this point that Clank came to a conclusion: Ratchet did not show concern for anything. Not for Clank or the galaxy or even himself. All he cared about was his single-minded quest for vengeance, and would most likely throw Clank to the dogs to get it. Perhaps he was just bitter after losing that maintenance 'bot to the swarmers, but comparing Ratchet, who had been by his side by the beginning, to this new, kind stranger, the Lombax really failed to measure up.

"So," The Lombax spoke after a moment, "anything else?"

His mind going straight to the message he had received, Clank vigorously shook his head, "No, there is nothing-"

And then the infobot sprung forward and activated the autoplay.

It had been exactly as Clank had expected; a commercial for Jowai resort, Pokitaru. It offered an escape from the troubles of the universe, and he knew by the muted pleasure on Ratchet's face that he was seriously thinking about this as their next destination. Everything he hoped would not happen, happened, as if fate was against him. Then, what happened next he did not expect. Ratchet swiftly turned to him, glaring him down angrily.

"So," He spoke, containing his belligerence, "were you going to tell me about this?"

Clank's mind whirled. He knew Ratchet would not accept that he had not known about it. The only thing left was to tell the truth, which he did with a tone of resignation, "I assumed that you would be distracted by our mission if you saw this," The body of that poor maintenance 'bot popped back into the forefront of his mind; he had been so courageous and eager to help. Going back to Ratchet, after that, was simply disheartening, "And it appears I was correct."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Ratchet scolded him with a tone that sounded only slightly more bitter than normal, "Quit being such a stuck-up nerd. You saw the commercial; they give out free O2 masks. If we had that, we could scavenge this base for information. We'll only go long enough to get one of those," He frowned and turned away.

It was too much. Anger and sadness, grief and desperation combined into one ugly emotion deep within his core. With all that pent up emotion, he turned to Ratchet and snapped, "Well, why not? Maybe the extra oxygen will allow your miniscule brain cells to function properly."

Ratchet didn't miss a beat on the retort, "And maybe the salt water'll rust your trap shut. We'll go clean up those bombers on Batalia, then we're heading straight for Pokitaru."

Clank turned away, fuming. The temporary reprieve of these plaguing emotions had only been a few moments before Ratchet's response inflamed them beyond his comprehension. This was an interesting response, perhaps the most intense emotions that he had felt since he was born. Perhaps this was why Ratchet was so hostile in his attitude towards Clank? This required further invesigation.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: So... you guys are gonna hate me for this.

Now, I'm not canceling the story or anything stupid like that – I've invested too much into this to just give up. No, I'm talking about Gaspar. I've decided, ultimately, to cut that planet from the story entirely. Now, hear me out. What am I going to do with that planet? There are no infobots and you only get the pilot's helmet, which is pretty pointless plot-wise. And I don't have any concepts for the planet; none at all. I can't think of anything to do there, either. What, you blow up ships? You get a gold bolt? I... I can't think of anything important to come from this, character-wise, and that's the base of this story. The characters. Ratchet and Clank's development was center focus from the prologue, and there's nothing here for me but filler. If I can't talk about how it effects Ratchet and Clank – and really, nothing there does – then it's not worth talking about. So, I'm sorry, to all you Gaspar lovers. This isn't a walkthrough, guys. This is a fanfictionization. And really, that planet is useless in the first place. So... yeah.

Now, about the chapter...

I hope none of you got attached to that OC that I didn't really give a name; that's an easy way to tell that a character's going to die. I don't bother giving them a name. But his purpose was to enhance Clank emotionally, so as long as he did that, he's okay.

This chapter was kinda short, compared to my normal fair. But the paragraphs were kinda long. That's just the kinda style Clank invigorates me. I guess it's just our mutual nerd power combining... that said, is it wrong that I kinda intended this chapter to be hypocritical?

Now, for everyone's favorite part...

What did I do good on?: The beginning of the chapter, where Clank's watching Ratchet sleep. This is in another, unpublished fanfic I'm working on AND was the centerpiece of my last one-shot. I guess I have a soft spot for people watching other people sleep. I kinda think it's sweet, romantic or not.

What did I fail on?: Ya know what I forgot to mention in a significant manner? Clank having a gun pointed at his head. Oops.

Random Question for Reviewers: Have you ever seen a double rainbow? One appeared over my house one time and it was beautiful.


	12. Batalia II: Death

In less than twenty minutes, Ratchet had discovered two things about Clank.

The first, and least surprising, of those two things was that Clank didn't trust him. Damn it, one yellow beach and sunny sky wasn't going to make him loose track of his mission. And yet Clank – Clank, who spent more than half of their time together searching for one guy who, even if he had been helpful, would clearly not have guaranteed victory – was worried about _Ratchet_ wasting time. The hypocrite.

The second thing he learned was that Clank was willing and able to defend himself. Verbally, at least. While not particularly clever, his comment about oxygen and his brain, it was at least something. To be honest, seeing Clank express any kind of emotion – anger, sadness, whatever – was a refreshing change from the stoicism Ratchet was used to seeing from the robot. And, while it did invoke the question of why this change occurred, Ratchet ultimately decided that it wasn't worth examining. So long as Clank kept that still-voiced apathy away from Ratchet, he could probably at least come to tolerate the robot. But, of course, after that one line Clank went back to being that matter-of-fact, unemotional bastard that had been forcing Ratchet to do his bidding.

"Ratchet!"

That last line had a 'semblance of panic, but that was probably because Ratchet was driving as recklessly as he possibly could in order to get another rise out of the robot. There were slight movements to his face, Ratchet began to notice, that were far more telling than the robot's actual voice. And right now, Clank was at the least scared, with his hands gripping tightly to the dashboard and his eyelids drawn slightly over his green optics. Amused, Ratchet consented to the unspoken plea and slowed the ship, noting how they were coming up upon their destination. With a short warning to the robot, Ratchet increased their speed to re-entry appropriate levels and took the ship down onto the platform they had landed on before. Unlike the autopilot, he recognized the rocky terrain and adjusted the x-axis and y-axis controls accordingly to make their descent as smooth as possible. Sometimes, Ratchet reflected, not even the most advanced of automated systems could beat out good old organic observation.

Almost immediately after they touched down, Ratchet hopped down onto the ground. It wasn't raining anymore, but this planet still had a humid, wet look about it. A gray overcast held dominant over the bleak, colorless landscape; it looked like water would pour down any minute now. But, for the moment, it was dry. Ratchet turned to offer his hand to Clank, but found that the robot was still in the cockpit, head sticking out uncertainly. His eyes were narrowed slightly as he peered around, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going through his head.

"Clank," Ratchet spoke, not bothering to hide his irritation, "Relax. No insane soldier kid is gonna pop out of nowhere and hold a gun to your head. I'm no math nerd, but I'm pretty sure the odds of that happening again are pretty low," As Clank opened his mouth to respond, Ratchet beat him to the punch, "and no, I don't need to know the exact odds. Now, c'mon, let's get going."

"It does not hurt to be cautious," The robot retorted, still keeping that careful control. Ratchet rolled his eyes, but didn't respond. So long as, every now and again, he could get that little moron to show some emotion, even if only little, then maybe he could tolerate him. Maybe.

* * *

As they moved forward, Clank made more of an effort than normal to keep tabs on the environment he and Ratchet were traveling through.

Something about this planet set off every one of Clank's internal warning signals. Perhaps it was because of the missile incident, or perhaps it was because of the incident with the soldier earlier. But for whatever reason, every sensor was tuned to pick up even the slightest movements around them. At the very least, they would not be caught off guard.

While loathe to admit it to Ratchet, Clank's patience for both the Lombax and the obstacles that seemed to be surrounding them was wearing thinner and thinner with each passing battle. Being held at gunpoint was just the start of it, and it finally reached a boiling point at the death of that maintenance 'bot on Orxon. It was getting harder and harder to keep his focus on the quest at hand and this was dangerous. Very dangerous. If he did not find any leads on the Blarg, and soon, Ratchet's quest for vengeance would take priority, due to the simple fact that Qwark would be easier to track down than Drek. He could not allow that to happen and, thankfully, there was a computer on Orxon that may just hold the answers they were looking for. All they needed was the O2 mask.

That is, if Ratchet could keep focused on their real goals. Well... one step at a time.

They kept moving forward, with Ratchet keeping quiet throughout the venture. This did not surprise Clank, considering Ratchet's bitter attitude, and the silence aided the range he had with his sensors. So this was not really bothersome. Not really. He noticed, dimly, that Ratchet chose the shorter, but more dangerous path of the broken bridge. An interesting choice, but considering his experience with climbing, Clank's helipack and the more than likely lack of a missile launcher this time, it was not an unpredicted one. Once again there was this thumping against his back, as Ratchet made his way across the ruined gap. Clank allowed his mind to go back to the different times he had felt this thumping, throughout their adventure. All those situations, despite their differences, had one overlying factor: they had all placed Ratchet into a situation where danger was evident. Going back to his own fighting experiences which, needless to say, were pretty limited, Clank found within him a sort of grudging respect for Ratchet's strength. To face things so scary on a daily basis and still keep up that confidence and coolness...

Then again, maybe not. Perhaps Qwark's betrayal was not the only reason for his sudden change of attitude towards his robot companion.

Thankfully, Clank's prediction ran true, and the soldier with the RYNO was long gone by the time they had arrived. Still, that did not stop Clank from temporarily increasing his sensor's range in that area. He also could not help but notice the increase of speed as Ratchet passed the area where the Blargian soldier he killed still lay, only starting to decompose. It was... hard to look at. It brought his mind back to Orxon.

It was a slowly moving eternity before they finally reached the base. The silence and sheer tranquility that had lasted throughout their excruciating trip caused a startled reaction in Clank as Ratchet finally spoke, "Well, let's get moving. Hopefully these cheap looking things work."

They were not cheap, Clank almost retorted. They were worth more than Ratchet had probably ever seen at one time. But, of course, he kept quiet. For the sake of getting on with the mission. But, if the situation had been better, then Clank most certainly would have had something to say to the Lombax. Oh, yes, he certainly would have. But, at the moment, it was not conductive to their quest, so the comment was let go. This time.

In the meanwhile, he kept quiet as Ratchet slipped on the shoes, appearing to have difficulty with the strings. Instead of helping the Lombax, as he had with Ratchet's driving, Clank decided to let him figure this one out on his own. If he was such a strong solo act, he certainly did not need Clank's help for simple things such as tying his shoes. He could figure it out on his own.

As the moment went on, however, it quickly became apparent that Ratchet had never worn shoes before. Slipping them on was slow and awkward, starting out with Ratchet slipping the left shoe onto his right foot. After a moment, he seemed to realize this was wrong and changed to the other foot, which was not at all a simpler process. For a moment, he wondered if the shoes were too small for the Lombax, but he managed to slip it on. Then there was the ever complicated task of figuring out how the strings worked, which took a while. Clank watched with obvious curiosity; Ratchet was clearly frustrated with the ties, but seemed firm in not asking for help. He ended up making the knot completely wrong, leaving this ugly, clumped bow lying awkwardly on his foot. But his eyes had widened and a smirk crossed his face, an expression that was on the face of every Blarg he had in his memory banks: pride.

Unlike the eternal images of the Blarg in his memory banks, Ratchet's pride seemed to fade off of his face, offering a hand to the robot once he had gotten back on his feet. Clank took it, his own expression unshaken. Ratchet's walking while wearing the magnet boots was awkward, both due to the new traction on his feet and the oddity of having his feet be literally attracted to the ground. He had to move forward, one step at a time, with each step showing visible strain. This quickly became unsettling for both the robot and the Lombax, as the way the vent twisted and bent, they were forced to walk at awkward angles and, for a brief period of time, they were even upside down. At this point, Ratchet's pounding was not only expected, but anticipated. Clank counted the beats to keep himself distracted.

"Well, here we- oh, hell."

At first, Clank was not sure why Ratchet had paused and exclaimed in such a low, disconnected tone, but the sight that awaited him answered any questions that popped into his processors. Because there, swinging below them, was the very same commando from earlier. His eyes were open, rolled back into the back of his head, and his limp arms and legs waving uselessly in the air. The cause of death? Pretty obvious; not many types of death involved a rope wrapped around the neck.

Ratchet made his way down slowly, ears perked like Clank had never seen before and eyes darting from side to side. Clank followed closely behind, not bothering with asking for a lift. The helipack would serve that purpose. The two approached the swaying body without words.

"...they hung him," Ratchet's words were soft and stoic, unlike anything Clank had ever heard from the Lombax. One hand had reached across his chest and started rubbing nervously at the opposing forearm. But other than that, he was completely still. Even his eyes seemed frozen, stuck on the body in front of them. Then, with almost no warning, in the exact same tone, "I wonder when he died..."

Clank's eyes ran over the body. His body temperature was several degrees lower than normal for his species, though not quite the temperature of the surrounding environment, and rigor mortis had not yet set in, "If I had to guess, he has been dead for two to three hours. Not terribly long after we left,"

Then, to Clank's surprise, Ratchet started laughing. Laughing! After quickly double-checking to ensure that he was not coughing, the robot scowled, "Are you laughing at the dead?"

"Sorry, sorry," Ratchet stifled his chuckling suddenly, as opposed to the gentle decline his previous bouts of laughter had caused, "'s just... it'd be funnier if you knew," Suddenly, Ratchet's hand was in front of his face, as still and silent as the rest of his body, "Ready to move?"

There was no logical cohesion to Ratchet's decision. Did he not feel the need to honor the body in any way? Was that not an organic reaction to death? Was that not a reaction ANY emotional being would have to death? Perhaps he was misunderstanding something here... but as he consented, allowing Ratchet to pull him onto the Lombax's back, he could have sworn that droplets of moisture were appearing on his fur and, as politely as he could, informed Ratchet of it. He had no idea why the Lombax's voice shook as he bitterly growled at the robot to shut up and hastily wiped at his own face.

* * *

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

There was really nothing that could go through his mind. Just... damn it! How the hell did something something like this even happen? How could such a thing have happened to someone who had so obviously been trying to be careful. Granted, from his limited perspective, that man was no strategic genius and he seemed incapable of a one-man army style of fighting, but... damn it! How did the Blarg find him? Where had he been in the short time between them leaving and him being caught? Did... did he even have a name?

...damn it.

Mercifully, Clank had kept silent since informing Ratchet that he was crying – did he even know what crying was? – and was currently on his back, unable to see Ratchet's face as tears slipped from his eyes without his consent. He didn't mean to cry... but... but... it just HAD to be a hanging, didn't it? He could have handled execution by gunfire, or even a brutal beating but... damn it, it HAD to be a hanging. The more he thought about it, the more the urge to cry came over him. But it wasn't unbearable. He just... needed to distract himself. He just... needed to get his mind off of the rhythm of that swaying body, cold... with the expression blank... and the fur disheveled...

No, no! Ratchet banished the image from his head, instead summoning one of a bloody, battered Qwark. It wasn't exactly a pleasant change of mood, but it was better than-

"Ratchet! Above you!"

The Lombax looked up, just in time to dive out of the way of a missile aimed straight at him. However, he failed to get out of the blast radius and, as a result, he and Clank were flung against a nearby wall. Every limb ached and, dimly, the thought that he should have been careful what he wished for popped into his head. He wasn't quite devoid of consciousness, though, and managed to crawl under a nearby platform to gather his bearings. He'd suffered far worse injuries than this while mountain climbing on the Kyzil Plateau. He'd take a few seconds to adapt to the pounding in his head and then figure out what to do about the missile launcher, whoever or whatever it was.

Still on his back, Clank asked, with his voice low so as not to attract attention, "Are you injured?"

"No," Ratchet answered in an equally silent tone, "Did you get a look at who shot at us?"

"Affirmative. My scanners indicate that it was a Blargian soldier carrying a RYNO missile launcher... comparisons to images in my memory banks show that this was the same soldier who assaulted us earlier."

An audible huff was given in response, "Well, that's an interesting coincidence."

"It is little coincidence, Ratchet. According to the Blargian Militia Hierarchy, only specially trained officers are allowed use of heavy weaponry such as the RYNO. This is likely the soldier-in-charge of the entire operation."

Clank's words rang in Ratchet's head, stuck on a repeating loop. The soldier shooting at them was the commanding officer, in charge of this entire mission. He turned this world gray. He almost killed them earlier. He... he gave the order to execute that soldier.

Without warning, Ratchet pulled Clank off of his back, the little robot humming questioningly as Ratchet placed him to the side but not really protesting. After he was out of the way, Ratchet sprang out from their hiding place, ignoring Clank's calls as he sprinted as fast as he could in a zig-zag motion, so as to avoid the missiles being launched straight at him. The Blarg soldier, having noticed that simply firing at him wouldn't work, panicked and pulled out a regular blaster, assuming that the quicker weapon could hit the Lombax. Ratchet scoffed, stopping shortly before a stray bullet could hit him and changing his tactic so that he was rushing straight at the guy, then went back to zig-zagging. His fur was on fire, the burning seeping down into his muscles and billowing through his veins. But he kept at it, until he tackled the leader down to the ground, holding him down with both gloved hands.

Even with his lack of body weight, Ratchet managed to hold down the Blargian commander with sheer force of strength. There was struggling, yes, but it did not amount to any sort of escape. Mostly it was just kind of pathetic. Upon realizing that escape was not an option, the Blargian commander seemed to devolve into a blithering mess, begging without words for mercy. Mercy? There was no mercy given to the soldier hanging in their courtyard. Why should Ratchet show HIM any mercy? Without any more thought, Ratchet's hands moved from his shoulders to his neck, pressing down as hard as he could. There was noise, a terrible gagging noise, and saliva leaked from the commander's mouth until finally, his head fell back, limp.

Ratchet took deep, gasping breaths, leaning away from the body. His hands were shaking, but he managed to keep the adrenaline from showing on his face. When Clank approached from behind, Ratchet didn't notice the robot until a hand brushed against his shoulder and he flinched away, looking the robot in the eye. Clank's eyes were open wide, his mouth pressed thin. There was no emotion on his face and, for once, Ratchet was grateful. If the robot had shown signs of horror or pleasure, he wasn't sure if he could handle it. Soundlessly, he offered his hand to the robot and the two kept moving. The commanding officer was gone, but they still had to do something about the air ships bombarding the city from high above their heads. The automatic cannon that the soldier had mentioned would do just fine for that.

Without a single exchange of words, the two forged deeper into the fortress, with Ratchet taking note of how the Blargians seemed to be gathering towards one location. It didn't take much to realize that they were evacuating. Someone must have noticed their dead commander and ordered an evacuation. Good.

The turret was in the back of the fortress, hidden from the Blarg forces. This move failed to surprise Ratchet in the least. What did manage to surprise him was who they found with the turret, bent over and working on it. And, of course, he couldn't resist.

"Hey, look, the plumber's back."

Clank, whom had once again removed himself from the belt harness, blinked, "Oh! It is... him?"

"You two done makin' jokes behind an old man's back? Or do I have to show you just what a pipe wrench can do to a Lombax's skull?" The plumber picked himself up and turned to the both of them, eying them with mock anger and a touch of visible humor. There was a pipe wrench in one hand, but from the way it was gripped, there was no doubt that he wasn't intending to harm anyone with it.

"If I may ask, sir," Clank began his inquiry politely. Ratchet raised his brow, taking note of how Clank's voice devolved back into stoicism, "what are you doing here?"

The Plumber scoffed, crossing his arms laxly, "I'm here fixing this stupid turret. The morons in the military clearly had no idea what they were doing with this thing. When I told them I had some technical experience, they just shut me in here with this thing and refused to let me out after I did fix it. Lousy, no good, lazy-"

"Did you know the Blarg took over this base?" Ratchet asked, arms crossed tightly and brows furrowed.

The Plumber cocked his head, "Huh. Didn't know that. Explains why no one let me outta here, at any rate."

"We can chase the Blarg away from here," Ratchet answered, moving to stand next to the turret, "If this thing works, then we can destroy the ships bombarding the planet from above. Whataya say?"

"I dunno," Answered the plumber, stroking his chin, "This thing works manually, and anyone who has the know-how to use it is probably dead. Or gone. Or whatever."

"Then," Ratchet responded, "give me a shot. I can't be any worse than letting the Blarg wipe this place out."

Still, the plumber looked doubtful. He looked from Ratchet to the turret, unsure, "I dunno... this equipment's sensitive..."

"C'mon," Ratchet pleaded, then allowed his face to grow dark as a thought entered his head, "Don't you wanna get the Blarg back for what they did to Novalis? Chasing you off and destroying anything they could get their cold, slimy hands on..."

While the plumber was still hesitant, it seemed that was what tipped the balance towards Ratchet. The large man relinquished control of the turret and gave Ratchet quick instructions on how it worked. Keep your feet firm. Double check your aim before you shoot. DON'T let it overheat. That was especially empathized. Oh, hell, DON'T let this thing overheat. That's pretty much ASKING for a death sentence. For all three of them.

Ratchet tried to remember these instructions, but when the ships realized they were being fired upon and started firing back, all he could do was listen to his instincts. As it turned out, the turret had an on-board radar, which alerted him to incoming missiles. There was an indicator to the left of that showing the heat levels, and Ratchet made a point of looking at it from time to time, making sure it never went above the half-way point. Each round he fired pierced through the air with a loud bang that made his ears bend back, but the situation... was oddly calming. With every hit made, it was like a little of that burden on his shoulders melted off, allowing him to finally stand straight, even for just a little while. Every missile blown out of the air made his lips curl into a smirk. And when it was finally over... Ratchet could honestly say he was disappointed.

"Well, look who can actually do something useful every now and again," Joked the plumber, lips curling up slightly, "You did good, kid. You did good."

Ratchet gave a tired smile in response, unable to suppress the positive emotions welling at the compliment. Of course, the LAST time he allowed that to happen, he was thrown down a giant hole, but Ratchet would just be careful this time. So he just gave a simple, "Thanks," and turned to Clank, "Alright, I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now take me to Pokitaru, you naïve little toaster oven."

Clank crossed his arms, apparently displeased, "Oh, very well. Just remember, we are not there to relax. We are going there simply to retrieve the O2 mask. That is all."

"Yeah, yeah," The Lombax turned away, annoyed, "I know. You don't have to remind me."

The plumber coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden change in their attitudes, "Uh... yeah... you two mind givin' me a lift? I can get a ride from wherever you're headin'."

Ratchet crossed his arms, not entirely displeased but still unhappy. There were worse things in the universe than giving a ride to an overweight Novalian, "Fine," He muttered, grabbing Clank by the hand without warning and swinging him onto his back. It was odd, really, how easily Clank could now slide onto the harness he wore. Maybe he shouldn't indulge the robot so much... but, so long as it was the easiest option for both of them, Ratchet figured he could allow it just a little bit longer.

In the meanwhile, he gave a short wave to the overweight plumber... and electrician, apparently, "Alright, keep close. The area we're going through it pretty mountainous, so you're gonna need to keep on your feet. It's not an easy trip."

"Eh," The plumber shrugged, "I've fixed water pipes on the Kyzil Plateau, kid. I don't think anywhere you take me is gonna trump that."

With a smirk, Ratchet just kept silent and kept walking. Maybe it had been the joy of blowing stuff out of the air, or maybe it was just the fact that he wouldn't be alone with a stupid, gullible robot for at least a little while, but he felt unnaturally good. Pokitaru, here they come!

* * *

"My brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today..."

The green, toxic air of Orxon usually prevented its civilians from going outside. They rarely left their homes and often didn't communicate outside of the occasional calls for food or repairs to their homes. But today was a special occasion. The cracked pavement was filled to the brim, down every street, with pink faces and pale blue struggling to poke over the heads of their peers; each covered with a red mask and as much of a hazmat suit as they could manage to scrounge together. Those who failed to find a spot in the streets were standing on the metallic walls, donned with ill-fitting metal shoes. Each expression was grim, either blank or downright sad. The stage in the center of the large crowd was, in contrast to the streets, vastly empty. There were only a few tearful individuals on it, and one man in a neatly pressed suit standing in the center, speaking into a microphone.

This man was Supreme Executive Chairman Drek.

"...to honor the sacrifice of our brave soldiers on Batalia, who died in the noble service of our race's future," His expression was solemn, despite the steadiness of his words, "While working to secure a piece of that planet, generously donated for our own gain, they were brutally and mercilessly assaulted by a rouge officer of the Batalia militia and his poor, deluded soldiers. While initially able to handle this, eventually executing this rouge, our soldiers suffered heavily upon the arrival of criminals number 647 and number 648. We have lost an unquantifiable number of our own soldiers when they took control of a turret we were unaware of and violently assaulted our ships. And now, three hours after that display of horror, we are gathered to say goodbye to these soldiers. Here to lead the goodbyes are the families of these poor victims, starting with the wife of Lieutenant Commander Pravis, the first of these casualties. Ma'am?"

As the obviously disgruntled and horrified woman took the stage, Drek sat on his own special spot, hiding his widening smirk behind folded hands. He had in no way meant for this to happen, but now that it had... well, let's just say that these men were, indeed, martyrs for the cause.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: For some reason, I think the Blarg are a very patriotic people. Dunno why. Just 'cause.

So, Ratchet's body count went up to two. Um, Clank's getting kinda paranoid... listen, guys, I'm not feelin' all that good. Can we just go straight to the good and bad parts?

Thanks.

What did I do good on?: I just like the ending sequence. The funeral service and the gunner sequence.

What did I fail on?: I think I'm tryin' a little TOO hard to be dark in this chapter. I mean, we have two deaths, the main character killing someone... I dunno. I'm just tired and aching and I guess it's affecting my writing. I WAS gonna make a comical April Fools thing... but screw it. I'm clearly not in a funny mood.

Random Question for Reviewers: Why would anyone think making an animated musical about the Titanic was a good idea? Just... why?


	13. Pokitaru: Flight

"Welcome to Pokitaru!" Introduced the Plumber with an air of enthusiasm, "Its close proximity to the sun and small size allow for a yearly tropical climate. In addition to this, the strict environmentalist laws have kept this world clean and comfortable for those needing to relax for as long as the Solanian Galactic Government's been in power."

A fascinating little tidbit of information, Clank decided, but it failed to provide any insight into what they would encounter while on Pokitaru. In addition to this, the information also made the planet sound like an excellent vacation spot, and that was something he did not need Ratchet thinking about. In fact, the Lombax was already looking out the window into what surely must have been the bluest oceans and most picturesque beaches in all the galaxy. Already, his mind was coming up with ways to keep Ratchet in check.

When the Lombax looked back at them, however, his face was tinged with disbelief; the doubt crept into his voice as he spoke, "Er, you sure about that? Cause this place doesn't look very clean..."

Both the Plumber and Clank scrambled for the viewport and, surely enough, the oceans were turning an ugly green color and sludge could been seen floating atop the water. Clank narrowed his optics, scanning the sludge and, surely enough, his Blargian database came up with an exact match. So the Blarg were dumping their spare contaminants here... the very thought of it caused anger to bubble up in his reactor. This place was supposed to be a refuge; a sanctuary. The Blarg had no right to take that away from them. With his fists tightened, Clank turned to the other two.

"It appears our old friends, the Blargians, have beaten us here," He spoke, keeping his voice matter-of-fact to highlight the seriousness. Ratchet gave him a look, but kept his attention on bringing the ship down to Jowai Resort where, hopefully, the O2 mask would soon be theirs, "We will need to keep an eye open for Blargian officers and military crafts. In fact..." Clank turned back to the viewpoint, narrowing in on the black dots moving around in the distance, "It looks like this planet is under Blargian military occupation. The most likely reason that they are not attacking us is because our ship looks like..." He paused, unsure how to phrase it.

Ratchet then proceeded to pull the words straight from his mouth, "Because we look like we work with Qwark. And Qwark is one of them."

There must be something wrong with this man, Clank decided. What sane person would merely frown after learning that the galaxy's supposedly biggest hero was nothing more than a washed-up traitor? "Well, that certainly explains a lot," The Novalian noted darkly, then looked over to the robot, "You might not wanna go 'round tellin' folks that, though. They probably won't react as... kindly as I did."

With a tilt of his head, Clank pondered his words. Could someone truly be so beloved by somebody else that their transgressions could be easily forgiven? Even if they had hurt so many people? It must be an organic thing, he decided. What kind of synthetic could be so blind?

"Approaching landing platform," Ratchet spoke, adjusting the controls. While it was true that the autopilot was more reliable, Ratchet had this air about him while piloting a ship. It was as if the previously carefree Lombax had suddenly acquired a sense of responsibility. He just took the position of pilot so seriously. It was very hard to believe that this was the same Lombax he had been traveling with earlier.

Upon landing, the trio were ambushed – quite literally, ambushed – by a large Rilgarian man dressed in tacky tropical clothing. He ran up to them with an expectant grin, "Captain Qwark, sir! It's so good to-" then paused, expression fading into anxiety, "Er, wait... where is Captain Qwark?"

The man, Clank recognized, was the one from the commercial to Jowai Resort. He had assumed that his loud, booming voice was simply an exaggeration for the camera. Apparently, he was incorrect. Clank could think of nothing to say to him in response. Ratchet, for better or worse, could.

"The good Captain couldn't make it," The Lombax's voice was smooth and silky; unnaturally charismatic, "You know how it is, saving the galaxy and whatnot. So he sent us with his best wishes."

All of the charisma in the world – not that Ratchet had it, but he did have a surprising amount of it when needed – could not have prevented the Rilgarian from crumpling at the news, visibly disheartened by the thought, "What-? Ah, man... Look, kids, I got a confession to make. I didn't send Qwark that commercial 'cause we needed more business. I sent it to him hoping he'd come to stop, well," He pointed upwards, towards the ships patrolling the island, "those. Now what am I going to do?"

Clank could not help but feel sorry for the poor man. Here he was, attempting to reach out for help without the Blarg noticing, only for the hero never to show up. Not because he misunderstood the message, but because he did not care. All too quickly, the robot spoke, "Sir, we would be happy to help you deal with this threat ourselves."

"Hey, now hold up-" Ratchet's protest went ignored.

"Really?!" The man grinned widely, reaching out to simultaneously shake the hands of both Ratchet and Clank at the same time. It was rather awkward, though slightly comical, "Ah, gee, thanks! You have no idea how much this means to me! Quick!" The man sprinted off into the distance, grinning widely, "We have an emergency jet fighter on the other side of the island! If we could get to it fast enough, then maybe-"

The talking continued; clearly the Rilgarian was relieved that somebody else had come to help. But Ratchet seemed less than happy at this turn of events, "What am I doing?" He grumbled, "What am I even doing? Does this man even HAVE any O2 masks?"

"You could stand to be a little more sensitive to his situation," The robot chastised gently, then turned to address the Plumber, "and... sir? Sir?"

To Clank's surprise, the Plumber had seemingly vanished into thin air. There was no sign that the overweight Novalian had even been with them. Ratchet did not seem notice the loss of this third member of their group. He was making a show of his irritation with their current position by keeping his arms crossed and refusing to look down at the robot. Fine. Let him be immature. Clank turned his back to the Lombax and walked after the Rilgarian. He could walk. He could walk just fine.

"...and BOY! Those Blargian fellows? Picky as all hell. Wouldn't eat anything unless its prepared EXACTLY right. If I'm even one degree off, they criticize me like hell and throw the damned food back in my face," The Rilgarian ranted, still clearly upset. Clank did not dare speak of how the pollution on Orxon made any food that was not prepared properly a death sentence. It would only create unneeded sympathy for the imperialistic Blarg.

They made their way through a new environment: a beach. It was quite the experience, walking through sand for the first time. The ground was the equivalent of ground rocks – or so his memory banks told him – and it was very awkward to walk upon. With every new step, he was unsure whether the sand beneath him would hold or shift under his light weight, making each new step just as intriguing as the previous. Though perhaps he spent a little too much time investigating this phenomenon, as eventually Ratchet poked at his back and offered a hand to him. For the bitter Ratchet to become impatient enough to break his own self-imposed ignorance of the robot.

On the opposite end of the short strip of sand was an old-fashioned speed boat. It was large, obviously designed for tours, but it was still better than swimming all that way. The waters of Pokitaru were filled with small, pink carnivorous fish that devoured metal as well as flesh. There was a reason, after all, that only a few beaches were sectioned off for aquatic recreation. Ratchet asked, briefly, if he could drive, to which the Rilgarian host just laughed and told him he could when he was tall enough to see over the wheel. He then had a hearty laugh. Clank just blinked at the so-called joke. What was funny about pointing out another person's shortcomings? Venting your frustrations, Clank could at least partially understand, but degrading others purely for humor? There were easier and more productive ways of producing laughs.

"Oh, and make sure to keep your heads low," Warned the resort's host. Ratchet did not seem to get it until one of the pink carnivores that inhabited the salty waters of Pokitaru made a jump over the hovercraft, teeth exposed to sink into its victim's skin. Once attached, it would then bite off and digest whatever flesh it had managed to latch onto. Thankfully, Ratchet was more than prepared, using his wrench as a bat to knock it back into the water. There was an awkward laugh from the front of the ship, "Yeah, sorry about that. Meant to get a cover or something for the ship, but with the budget cuts and the Blarg dumping toxins into our oceans... haven't really had the time. You understand, right?"

Clank nodded in understanding. The chaos the Blarg were causing was not easy to deal with, especially on one's own. Ratchet seemed less concerned with that and more concerned with watching out for those pink fish that had attacked. Not unreasonable, Clank decided, so he let Ratchet do his own thing.

* * *

"Here we are!" Chirped the host, all too cheerfully. Personally, Ratchet couldn't see why the guy was so happy all of a sudden. Then again, he wasn't the one who had spent the entire ride over hastily batting away the pink puffy fish that were constantly trying to infiltrate their puny little bare-bones hovercraft and eat away at the flesh of the occupants. The constant swinging and quick moving from one side of the craft to the other left the Lombax's legs and arms sore. But no time could be spent dawdling on something as insignificant as Ratchet's exhaustion. Sigh.

Clank, from his position on Ratchet's back, had at least provided some aid, telling Ratchet when he was about to be attacked from behind. Simplistic, yet effective.

Their host continued speaking and walking, as if giving a tour, "Now this is the beautiful Trail of the Whispering Brook. It's a popular hiking spot for tourists all over the galaxy and is amongst Solanna's top most relaxing locations. Some say that you can hear the voices of the deceased amongst the cascading falls in the center of the island..." His voice became calm and serene; almost meditative. Then they switched to the loud, obnoxious tone of a salesman, "Eh, but who cares about all that spiritual mumbo jumbo anyways? The real money's in the bottled water sales! Since the water here is so pure – or rather, used to be until those Blarg fellows showed up – we could just bottle it and sell it for virtually all profit! Not to mention all the environmentalist nuts who come to see the animals-"

"Animals?" Ratchet interrupted, suddenly. The memories of the last native 'animals' he'd encountered were still fresh in his mind.

"Oh, don't worry about it," The Rilgarian waved off the Lombax's concern, clearly uninterested, "They're all docile, at best. Most of them don't even come out during the day. Why, just last week-"

Before the man could relay his anecdote, a sudden rustling in the nearby brush brought Ratchet's attention away from him. Wrench in tow and Clank on his back, Ratchet crept towards the origin of the sounds, each step made with precision and silence. Hastily, he pushed back the branch and promptly had his face attacked by a long tentacle, wrapping around his face and pulling him in. The first, startled scream was muffled by the purple suckers attacking his mouth. One hand desperately pulled at the tentacle as it lifted him up in the air and the other slammed his wrench hard into the squishy, malleable tissue. It was like the thing couldn't feel pain; it just growled in annoyance and began wrapping its other tentacles around his limbs.

As he struggled, Ratchet could feel Clank disengage from his back and panic began to take over. If Clank felt that Ratchet was in enough danger to be worth abandoning – after staying on his back through so much – then he probably really was in trouble. His struggling increased exponentially, with each pull against the creature's tentacles its grip tightened around his arms and legs and face. Breathing was suddenly becoming difficult. Then, all of a sudden, the grip on each of his limps simultaneously loosened. And then some more, enough for him to wiggle out enough to take a deep breath through his nose. Shortly after, he was lying on his back, somewhat discombobulated.

"Well, that takes care of that," Grumbled the robot behind him, an air of irritation in his voice. Faintly, Ratchet could see the tip of the creature's tentacles as it retreated, the odd colored rocks lying on the ground, and pieced together what happened.

Well, damn. The little robot just saved his life. Reluctantly, the Lombax mumbled, "Thanks," while rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. After all they'd been through since Orxon, it felt a little weird acknowledging him in a positive manner. Clank looked at him awkwardly for a moment, clearly unsure as to how he should respond to Ratchet's comment.

"It was not a problem," He eventually said, "I was simply returning the favor."

Right. Returning the favor. It was nothing more than that, Ratchet reminded himself hastily. Just because he didn't care didn't mean he had no sense of decency. It was just business as usual, "Yeah, well... thanks anyways," Here, Ratchet picked himself up; frustration then began to build in his core. What was he doing? He should have had that! After all, it had been his idea to investigate. The next time, he would make SURE that whatever was attacking them was dead. Then he turned back to Clank, holding out his hand.

The next time, he would be ready.

* * *

Despite having to deal with Ratchet's bad attitude for some time now, Clank had never really had his patience tested until now. Now that he understood the terror of struggling for your life, watching Ratchet fight – and begin to lose – was vastly different than the other times. Suddenly, staying stoic on his back didn't seem quite right. So he reacted, removing himself and throwing rocks at the creature attempting to strangle the Lombax to scare it away. It had been quite... exhilarating, especially when Ratchet had turned around and thanked him for it. But then, the ultimate test of his fortitude and determination cropped up, unexpectedly.

"So then these freaks went off about how it was 'unnatural' for these things to be forcibly kept in the ocean," The man rolled his eyes, "Never mind that they are born in, generally live in and hunt in the ocean, and only come ashore once in a while to stare at the noisy guests. And THAT'S why those octothingys are roaming the island."

Clank did not respond. Not audibly, anyways. But after listening to this man whine and complain the entire way over about things that were inconsequential. Mostly his bosses, the Board of Directors, but sometimes clients or annoying animals he had encountered. Ratchet did not seem to care much for the stories either, but he was occupied with lookout; it seems that octopus attack left him somewhat paranoid. But Clank, who had less to do and more mental resources to do it with, was inclined to listen to the stories at least a little bit. Each one decreased his sympathy for this man more and more.

In addition to this, their stop at this small little path turned out to be completely pointless. Shortly after, they arrived at a small pier where yet another hovercraft was waiting for them, "Hey, these crafts aren't designed to go out into deep waters. And besides, I'm pretty sure this way was quicker."

As he started up the engines, Clank felt something inside of him shift and, getting off of Ratchet's back, turned to the Lombax, "In case we are attacked again, I will provide assistance. Granted, I am not sure how much help I will..."

The Lombax looked him over with a critical expression while he spoke. Eventually, he looked away, saying, "That's alright. Anything's better than nothing. Just make sure to keep them off your back."

With a short nod, Clank assumed a defensive stance; type one, keeping his feet even for balance and placing his hands in a position from which he could easily move to attack. The only signal that they were eventually starting to move was the revving of the engine.

Shortly after, they were under attack.

The pink fished homed in on the ship and began jumping over it and around it in attempt to board. These creatures were dangerously hostile, Clank immediately realized as he threw one off the hovercraft. These vehicles should have been covered years ago, were the creatures truly naturally aggressive like this. The only explanation he could derive was that these things had only become hostile upon exposure to the toxins. Which meant that these creatures were illegal mutants and, under the Environment Protection Act, would have to be removed and sent to specialized genetic facilities for neutralization.

Another one appeared to his left. It was quickly taken care of with a single punch.

Actually, this entire area would be closed, probably for years, for the clean-up after the Blarg were defeated. After all, even if this place was not a Galactic Government protected haven, the majority of Blargian pollution was radioactive, meaning that anything living on this island would have to receive extensive medical treatment anyways. Trees and plants would be relatively easy to treat; they adapt far more easily to radioactivity than animals would. Same with insects. The larger animals would be the problem. As would-

Without warning, one of the little pink fish collided with Clank from the side, sending him careening backwards. The small little fish wasted no time in beginning to gnaw at the metallic grating that covered his storage compartment. Before he could do anything the creature disappeared, flying through the air at breakneck speeds. Standing over him was Ratchet, complete with a raised wrench. They exchanged a quick glance – Ratchet's eyes were dark, unreadable – then Ratchet turned away from him without a word.

Picking himself up, Clank muttered a brief, "Thank you," to Ratchet, who did not respond. Out in the distance was a shore lined with buildings. Hopefully they were nearing the end of this ridiculousness.

* * *

The resort building turned out to actually be more of a resort village, with novelty rental houses and cheap-looking gimmicky shops. When they passed a restaurant called 'Beach Time Bungalow', even Clank gave an awkward look to the manager, who just gave them a sheepish glance in response. Every step that they took into this gaudy little town made Ratchet cringe. It was just so TACKY. Sheesh, he'd heard of things this stupid on the holovision, but never did he imagine they actually existed. It was a bit like stepping into a horror movie.

"Okay!" The host clapped his hands together and rubbed, stopping them outside the least marketable of the buildings. It was a square concrete – effective, but terribly mismatched against the tasteless architecture of the other buildings, "So, this is where we keep the jet. It's not much – really just used for giving sky tours – but it still has a working weapons system," While they were talking, the man approached a door to the side of the building and firmly gripped the handle, "so all we have to do is-" There was a sudden pause as the Rilgarian pulled hard on the handle and it failed to open.

He pulled again, and again, with the same result. With each separate pull he put a little more weight into it, until eventually he was pushing violently against the wall. No results. Eventually Clank, being Clank, spoke up, a slight amount of hesitance in his voice, "Eh, I believe the door is locked, sir."

"DAMMIT!" Shouted the host, stomping the ground in an elegant show of maturity that made Ratchet roll his eyes, "Of all the times they could've- I mean, they'd been threatening to for a while, but- GAH!" He completed the comical freakout with a double facepalm, then swiftly turned around to explain, "Looks like the Board of Director's finally came through with their promise to lock me outta the garage. Damned idiots... luckily, the guy next door takes care of the jet fighter, so he should have a key."

The guy next door's building was the second least tacky home in the resort village. While its bright colors and roofing fit right in, it had a more modern architectural design. The sign posted outside the building read 'Bob's Robo Shack', which made Ratchet cock one brow up. Another one? With the EXACT same name? This was too weird to be a coincidence. Nonetheless, he followed behind Clank and the host as they knocked loudly on the two doors.

"Hey, Bob, buddy!" He called, "It's me, open up!"

The door opened up, to reveal a disgruntled Solanian. He was thin, with a patch of brown hair on his head and... a lab coat and a T-shirt. Gee, THAT sounded familiar. The new figure, who Ratchet assumed was Bob, began to snap back, "Yeah, whataya-" Then paused, mid-sentence, "Hm? Now who's this?"

Without warning, Bob crept out from behind the door, allowing Ratchet a good view of the mess of various parts that made up his shop, and picked up Clank, who exclaimed with surprise, "Hey!"

"Hm," His eyes ran over Clank's metal body, "Spectrum six comm unit, retractable limbs... integrated storage space, interesting... Mm, I know this handiwork," He gave Clank a smirk, as if the robot had a secret that he knew, "You've been to see Al, haven't you? Yup," He completely ignored Clank's answer, "I'd know work like this anywhere. Hell, I taught the little bugger everything he knows. Mind if I take a poke at your systems?"

Wow, Ratchet thought, he was actually feeling SORRY for the little robot, who could only shift awkwardly in the hands of Bob. Quickly, he intervened, "So, I heard you can get us a key to the jet garage next door. You mind handing it over?" As he spoke, Clank pulled away from the Solanian, wiggling free of his grip.

Seeming a little miffed at the loss of the robot, Bob's attitude quickly became condescending, "Well, yeah, but I can't just give it to you. Unless you're a paying customer, but from the looks of you," Bob's eyes critically examined the Lombax, "no, you're definitely not. So, if you don't mind, I have BETTER things to do than listen to-"

"Bob, buddy, pal," Stepped in the Rilgarian, "These two have my special permission to use the jet fighter. Because, uh, in case you haven't noticed," He pointed upward, "We're kind of under attack!"

The eyes of the robot man traveled upward, examining the ships as if noticing them for the first time. Then he turned to the group, "They're not hurting anything," This earned a facepalm from Ratchet. Could anyone really be this DENSE? "So, unless you have money or permission from someone who actually has authority around here," With this, a dirty look was cast towards the host, "I'll just be on my way-"

Once again, the man was interrupted. This time by Clank, who took a firm stance with half-lidded angry eyes that held a defiance Ratchet had never before seen in the robot, "Sir, these Blarg are dispensing their waste into the oceans of Pokitaru. Under the Environmentalist Conservation Initiative, this pollution can be taken as a deliberate act of hostility and be used as justification for counterattack. In addition, this occupation, which is unlawful, by the way, serves as a justified cause for seizing and using armed crafts under the War Conduct Compact between the civilized worlds of Solana. Legally, we can justify simply taking the keys from you. Or," Here, he seemed to calm some, going from a semi-angry rant to his normal, detached self, "you can simply hand over the keys like the good person we know you are."

Frankly, Ratchet thought the little robot was giving this guy too much credit. When he did relinquish the keys and handed them over, it certainly wasn't because he was being a good person. He was clearly hating the party with every second that it took for him to walk next door and open the door for them. What was on the other side of the door was not what Ratchet was expecting. The fighter jet was... a piece of junk, with scrapes and bruises all over it's glorious red skin. Its wheels were sprained and its nose was bent out of shape. The abused fighter was just hard for the mechanic to look at.

Clearly, this was not what the Rilgarian manager had expected either. He stammered and stuttered awkwardly at the horrible mess before him, all the while Bob telling them that this was the reason for the new lock system. Apparently, some shmuck broke into the garage and took this poor plane for a ride, resulting in the horrid wreckage that they saw before them. While the two native idiots argued, Clank pulled on Ratchet's pant leg to get his attention and, upon having it, asked him quietly, "Can you fix it?"

"A lot of the damage looks cosmetic," Whispered the mechanic, twirling his wrench in one hand as was habit, "but still, it could take hours just to do a proper diagnosis. There's no way of telling just how much damage this thing's taken, or how much time it'll take to- what are you doing?" Clank had moved from his position at Ratchet's side and was examining the ship with certainty. A part of Ratchet briefly remembered that Clank had a built-in scanner, and he facepalmed upon hearing that. Of course. He was just doing the diagnosis for Ratchet. That was... really handy.

The robot turned to look at Ratchet, "Like you said, a majority of the damage is cosmetic. The most damage was done to the fuel intake line on the starboard side of the ship, which will need extensive repairs. There is also damage done to the port thruster and the afterburner. If done correctly, it will take somewhere between two-three hours to fully repair. But judging from the last ship you had worked on," There was a trace of admiration on the robot's face. Or maybe that was just Ratchet's imagination, "Then we should have this thing done in no time."

For a moment, Ratchet remained silent. He really shouldn't except this job. The locals were lazy bums; the only reason it was still broken was because they hadn't bothered to fix it yet. And really, these were simple things to fix. But on the other hand, it HAD been a while since he'd worked on a ship. To get back into the swing of fixing things would be a silent relief. So, with a nod at the robot, Ratchet gave a firm, "All right," and got to work.

* * *

"I'm gonna need duck tape."

"Duck tape?" Repeated the robot with disbelief. They had finished some of the simpler repairs, but were still deadlocked with one of the trickier repairs. Then, out of nowhere, Ratchet had demanded duck tape. Odd, "Why would you need duck tape?"

The Lombax removed his oil-covered face from the engine, giving Clank a humored look, "Are you kidding? Duck tape is a mechanic's final tool. It almost always works, but its not as perfect looking, so we don't use it unless we're run out of options. And I'd definitely say we're running out of options," The Lombax took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, "You think you can find some?"

Already, Clank was looking through the small box of tools loaned to them by the not so happy to help Bob. Most of the tools, Ratchet had claimed, were used purely for robotic repairs and thus, worthless for their venture. However, they had found a few more useful items and, surely enough, at the bottom lied a single roll of silvery tape, which Clank promptly pulled up. The duck tape was simplistic and gray, useful only on one side while the other merely existed. Curious, Clank mused as he delivered the roll to Ratchet's outstretched hand. Personally, he could not see the worth in such an invention. Ratchet, however, seemed to find it rather quickly, for in mere moments he emerged from the engine and hastily wiped his face upon the ragged cloth, leaving a vague Lombax-shaped imprint within the fabric before tossing it aside casually.

"Alright," The Lombax spoke, "Next we should probably get working on the afterburner," Grabbing a clean cloth and draping it across his shoulder, Ratchet made his way towards the rear end of the ship, looking it over momentarily before diving in headfirst. His examination was thorough, Clank admitted with some admiration. Every part, even the undamaged ones, were examined with all the care and delicacy of a loving father; already, this ship was Ratchet's. He'd invested so much into it, physically and emotionally, and it showed with every second he spent tending to it.

"Alright, the afterburner isn't too bad off. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes. We're gonna need some way to remove this part, though," He tugged loosely on something that was bolted down. Then his voice turned bitter as he spoke, the unspoken accusations weaving their way through his speech, "'Course, that'd be a lot easier if my damned wrench could calibrate itself to the size we needed."

Clank almost sighed. And to think, he had thought that they were getting away from that. Perhaps not... "Do not act like I was the one who broke your wrench. That was an accident neither of us had control over," His eyes narrowed as he recalled something, "and do not presume to blame me for your lack of wrench capabilities when you have had multiple opportunities to stop and purchase a new one somewhere."

"I don't WANT a new wrench," The childish Lombax snapped at him, ears bending back hostilely. It seemed as though he had struck a nerve.

Curious to see where this new development would take him, Clank pressed the subject, "Why are you so attached to that thing, anyways? It does not possess any value. It is not new enough to be cutting-edge, but not old enough to be some sort of antique. If anything, continuing to carry something so useless around is a hindrance. It is... illogical."

To his surprise, Ratchet's reply was not an immediate snarl of rage. He was not attacked, nor ignored. Ratchet did not even answer the question in a quiet rage. Instead, he turned back to the afterburner, now simply trying not to make eye contact as he spoke, softly, "What'd be the point? It's not like you care."

Care? Clank pondered the term. Did he not care about it? In terms of their mission, he had to. It was simply a relic holding them back. It needed to be discarded and replaced. Emotionally... Clank pondered this. Ratchet was rather attached to it. Such obsession could be potentially dangerous and, as he traveled with Ratchet, Clank could not risk being endangered by such a thing. It would put his mission at jeopardy. So he responded, "I do care."

A scoff echoed through the chamber, "Yeah, I'll bet."

The words seemed to cut through the robot. He was not sure why those stung more than anything else Ratchet said and he had to wonder... was it because there was a hint of truth within them? Suddenly, his memory banks summoned an image from back in Metropolis and he decided to rebut, "Yes, well, you care about me," At the snort he received, Clank continued, "You must care! For what other reason would you risk your life and future career to aid me in escaping from a Blargian soldier?"

"Ya mean, other than having such a wonderful personality?" There was a chuckle that followed, short and hollow. The bitterness even bled into Ratchet's laughter, "I dunno. I certainly wasn't going to LEAVE you there. Especially after you stole for me."

"It was NOT stealing," Clank reprimanded. He could not help the defensive anger that crept into his voice at the accusation, "I was merely securing property that rightfully belonged to you."

Ratchet looked amused, but almost angry to be so. It was confusing, to see the two emotions in such a close range, "Yeah, I'll bet. Tell me; how does it feel to always be right? Because, you know, you're clearly perfect," His words were complimentary in nature, but thrown with such spite that there was no mistaking them for anything but a declaration of loathing. It made Clank wonder... this was deeper than anger over a mistake. What had he done wrong? At the robot's puzzlement, Ratchet threw up his hands in defeat. Clearly, the argument was not worth having in his eyes, "Forget it. Just... find me a wrench, will you?"

The rest of the repair was spent in silence.

* * *

She was a Hydrosonic Carbonator 1919, a standard fighter ship from a time where military designs were all the rage. The red color was popular as well, despite being as effective as pink camouflage in a snowstorm. Her wings and engine were designed to work with atmospheric conditions, making space flight nearly impossible. But, thankfully, this was compounded by one of the most efficient fuel systems ever applied to ship kind. She was, for someone like Ratchet, a dream boat.

And he was going to get to fly her.

"Be careful now!" Called the manager, who was in a much better mood after seeing how quickly and effectively Ratchet had fixed their fighter pilot, "Don't fight the wind; work with it! And make sure to target the central control ship at the center of the fleet. It'll discombobulate their forces enough for you to take 'em down!"

"Right!" Ratchet called over the turbulence. Shortly after the cockpit viewpoint lowered, leaving only Ratchet and Clank within the small helm. Hesitantly, the Lombax shot a glance to the robot sitting at his side, patiently awaiting take off. It was so unfair. Clank could just... shut away those pesky emotions and get on with the mission. Ratchet, in the meanwhile, was stuck with the emotional aftermath. It sucked. Shaking his head, he quickly addressed the robot, "You ready?"

The robot was messing with something on the dash board, pressing buttons at a speed that made Ratchet dizzy just watching. He didn't respond for a moment, then replied, "Affirmative. The targeting system is set up and ready to go. Assuming that these are level two Blargian Pilots, we should have no problems taking care of them."

Only a nod was given in his general direction to show that Ratchet was still paying attention. As much of his focus as possible was on the blue skies in front of them. Since there was not a whole lot of wind right now, they did not have any clear advantage over the Blargian forces. Instead, Ratchet would have to play this cool and stealthy. Their ship rose up into the airs above the garage, starting out slow and then speeding as they approached the air fleet. Take out the central control ship. That had been the advice of the resort manager and so he would follow.

The ship in the center appeared to be a giant worm-like creature, segmented into eight different parts. They came up on its rear slowly, steadily... then, when they were in-range, Ratchet pressed down on a button and missiles were released, slamming into the back segment of the giant centipede. As a result, it exploded, sending ripples and shock waves throughout the fleet. Then, all at once, the remaining fighters began to fire back, forcing Ratchet into a defensive position. His instincts lead him to move fast, move erratically, and to his side, he noticed faintly that Clank was clinging onto the seat of the ship desperately, so as not to be thrown off.

The other pilots he was up against almost disappointed the Lombax. Instead of the challenging fight he'd been hoping to receive, these planes seemed to opt for suicide runs, where they were easily taken out with his short-range guns. What a saddening twist, Ratchet decided as yet another one went up into pieces. Then, as quick as he went on the retreat, Ratchet flipped back, going back to engage the centipede command ship. Narrowing his eyes, he pressed down and sent another missile launching towards the ship, where it collided with a satisfying boom.

* * *

"Sir! We've just lost Cabin Six!"

The Blargian administrator growled in exasperation, quickly tuning his comm unit to broadcast to all of his ships, "This is Admiral Terron. I need all available units on the defensive. We are under attack; repeat, we are under attack!" Another explosion rocked the ship, sending everyone aboard tumbling to the floor. Terron's chair went spiraling, sending the veteran soldier to the ground. Hastily, he pulled out himself up and called out to his subordinates, "Status report!"

The female soldier to his right looked up from her readings, "Cabin Five is gone, and Cabin Four is taking heavy collateral damage. It'll blow any second," On that note, his soldiers began working to secure themselves, so as not to be knocked down again, "The mysterious fighter has already taken down at least half of our fleet, including our ace units. I believe... surrender is our only chance of survival, sir."

Every soldier in the room violently protested aloud. Even the young female who suggested it looked utterly disgusted with herself. But it couldn't happen. Everyone in the room had taken an oath to stand strong, whatever may happen. There would be no surrender on anyone's part. Another explosion ripped through the ship, even stronger than the last one. Cabin Four was gone. Only two more before they, too, would be amongst the exploding debris crashing to the planet below. The Admiral took a look around the room. Some of the pinkish faces were lightly battered from the fall, but all were giving him the same confident expression.

Everyone here would die today. But they wouldn't do so without a fight.

"Alright, men," Terron spoke loudly, "Get into formation; defensive post Alpha-Four. Lieutenant," The female saluted dutifully, "Begin a mass data dump. We may be going down, but I'll be damned if they get any information from our burning corpses!" He summoned his communicator again, speaking into it with less desperate panic and more melancholy, "Soldiers, if you're still alive, get back into formation. You have a ship to defend."

And, with that, he took his position at the bridge, awaiting the inevitable as another explosion signified the loss of Cabin Three.

* * *

"Woohoo!" Ratchet cheered, taking a moment's breather as yet another of the segments blew up. Just two left. Clank, to his side, gave him a bit of a disapproving scowl. Or as much as he could muster, at any rate. But who cares? They were winning! With the eye of a sharpshooter, Ratchet targeted the second to last sphere, blowing it to smithereens with the press of a button. Only one left now...

A sudden cry came from his right, "Ratchet, behind us!" And, certainly enough, a group of fighters closed in on their rears, shooting at them pointlessly. They were all terrible shots, and it was all too easy for Ratchet to loop behind them and shooting. Shortly after, he merrily watched the ships' remains fall into the ocean. This, he had to admit, was a bit relaxing.

There was one segment of the bug ship left, Ratchet noted with delight and a slight tingling of disappointment. But, bearing in mind that, as soon as this was over, they could get the heck out of here, Ratchet aimed his weapon and blasted away. It took four shots before the ship finally exploded, debris flying in every which direction. The remaining few ships scattered upon witnessing the destruction, leaving only Ratchet and Clank in the skies. Feeling a bit more relaxed, the Lombax slumped back in his seat and directed them lazily back to the garage.

With a swoosh, the two came into the garage, Ratchet keeping it slow and steady. Below them, a grinning manager and slightly unimpressed looking Bob were awaiting them, each obvious in their emotions. As soon as he hoped out, Ratchet was tackled and nearly suffocated by the Rilgarian as he heartily embraced the Lombax.

"Thank you!" He spoke as he held the Lombax close, "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Finally, we can get back to business. And, you know, not being attacked by mutant animals. How could I POSSIBLY repay you?" Already, the man had pulled out a bolt account card, "Ten thousand bolts? TWENTY thousand?"

And OH how the Lombax would love to accept. But, he reminded himself grimly, there were bigger fish to fry. Bigger, greener fish. With stupid catch phrases. So he turned down the money with a brief, "No, thanks," but added immediately afterwards, "However, I could do with an O2 mask about now..."

"You gots it, baby!" The manager gave them a grin, pulling a box out from a nearby shop and shoveling through it. Eventually, he emerged with a red full-face mask, "Oh, last one! And just your size, too! Here you go, palsy!"

Palsy. The name made Ratchet visibly cringe, but he ignored this in favor of catching the new mask. This was going to make their quest so much easier... infiltrating Orxon would be a breeze, "Thanks. And, uh, don't call me, palsy. It's weird."

"Not as weird as an extinct cat and a walking lunch box handing you a fat stack of bolts for no reason," Ratchet's ears stood on end. He knew that voice... as if on cue, out of nowhere came the Plumber, grinning widely, "'course, I'm sure there are weirder things in the universe... but what does an old fart like me know, anyways?" The old man chuckled, the glint of childish light in his eyes sparkling.

It was too weird. Quickly, Ratchet asked, "Where did you come from?"

"Ah? Oh, turns out the sewers in this here place run all the way under the island systems. Pretty weird set-up, but MUCH safer than walking around in the open," Upon hearing this, Ratchet and, to his surprise, Clank both turned and stared angrily at the manager, who gave a sheepish grin in response. But before they could tear into the irresponsible man, again spoke the Plumber, "and much more interesting. I came across a room with all sorts of interesting disks," One of which appeared in his hand, raised high above his head, "Wanna watch? All we need is an infobot."

"Eh, the Blarg took mine. Sorry," The manager shrugged.

"The same with mine!" Hastily spoke Bob. It was noted by Ratchet how he suddenly became finicky, especially when Clank sheepishly announced his ownership of one. The group crowded around as the infobot took the disk and, after a moment of hesitation, ate it. He then started to play the video.

It was just a black and white film of... the garage. After a while, Bob came in, looked around, then began working on the ship. He cleaned it, worked on it... Ratchet raised a brow. He was doing an okay job, so why... then all questions were explained as Bob leaned against one of the shifts, causing the ship to fly backwards into the wall. Obviously frightened, the past Bob fled from the garage. In the present, Bob flinched against the harsh glares of his peers.

"Hey... so, um..."

"We almost lost our lives because YOU made a mistake?!" Snapped the manager.

Ratchet was angry for quite another reason, "You forgot to make sure it was parked before you began cleaning it? Dude, do you know how long it took me to fix that?!" But at least it linked him to Al, somehow. It seemed that both brothers had a habit of screwing up when they drove stick.

"Please, don't tell the Board of Directors!" Pleaded the Solanian, "I'll give you anything you want! I'll-I'll give you a Thruster Pack upgrade! It's like, ten times better than that stupid upgrade Al gave you! Just PLEASE don't tell my boss!"

Clank looked torn and confused and, really, Ratchet could kind of understand it. Kind of. On one hand, the robot needed every resource he could to beat the Blarg. Looking at it logically, an improvement on the helipack would really be useful. On the other hand, morals came into consideration as well. The robot was stuck-up, in terms of goodness, and so it was really no surprise that he had an internal conflict. So, before they were stuck here for a hundred years, Ratchet stepped in, "C'mon, Clank, what's really gonna matter in the end? Making this guy pay a few thousand bolts and maybe spend some time in jail? Or an upgrade that'll probably help you defeat the Blarg?"

It seemed that final encouragement was just what Clank needed. So, with some hesitance, he accepted and allowed himself to be escorted away by Bob. The manager looked displeased but probably figured he couldn't argue with the guys who saved their lives. Ratchet gave a look to the man and asked him to tell Clank that he was going back to the ship. Once that was done, he looked expectantly back to the old man.

He was sorely disappointed, "Nah, I think I'll stay around here for a while. Help with the clean up, maybe. In the meanwhile, I'll see you soon, kid."

It wasn't until two hours later, when Clank met him at the ship, did Ratchet realize something. Quickly, he asked the robot, "Hey, Clank?"

"Yes?"

"Why was the Plumber on Batalia, anyways? Did he ever tell us?"

There was a pause, as the robot searched his memory core for the information and, upon not finding it, managed to look just as befuddled as Ratchet, "I am... unsure," They traded an uneasy glance before, eventually, they climbed into the cockpit.

Next stop: Orxon.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Note: You know, I can't decide whether or not the Blarg are incredibly cheap or just plain stupid. But hey, at least they're patriotic.

You know, this is my least favorite chapter. It's kind of stupid. But, ya know, whatever. Also, you'd think Ratchet or Clank would think to ask the Plumber a few questions after a while. He seems to know a lot more than he should. I've even heard theories that he's somehow Orvus. Um, okay... that's an interesting idea, I guess. But, are there any fanfictions written about it? That's the main question.

What did I do good on?: The part with the Blargian soldiers in the centipede ship. (Sniff) It just really goes for the heart, man.

What did I fail on?: The ending. I had to rush it because I got distracted by cheese or something.

Random Question for Reviewers: Can you tell me where I got the line in my 'fail' commentary? You score major internet points if you do.


	14. Orxon II: Teamwork

"_Alert: Your ship's registry does not have the required security clearance for landing. Please submit the security code in the next sixty seconds or your vehicle will be vaporized."_

"Well THAT hadn't happened before," Ratchet scoffed in minor irritation, then frowned in puzzlement before turning to Clank, "That hadn't happened before, right?"

Punching in the security code, Clank started to form a response about how limited organic memories were before remembering for himself that Ratchet had slept the way to Orxon, making the joke distasteful. Instead, he completed the sequence and turned to the Lombax, his expression neutral, "No, it had not. Reinforcement of the security code could only mean one thing: this facility is now under the control of the Blargian Militia."

The very thought of it caused the Lombax to tense; his fur stood on end, his ears stiffened above his head. Going head on head with the Blargian military – again – didn't seem like a good idea. But if this would lead him to Qwark... Qwark, who ruined everything. Eyes darkening, Ratchet gave a curt nod to Clank, resolve strengthened. Whatever was down there wouldn't get in their way.

The landing platform they had used upon their last visit was still free, by some weird coincidence. Upon touching down, Ratchet took a quick moment to place the O2 mask on his face. Almost immediately after it was fitted around his head and sealed, the mask began pumping fresh oxygen through. Ratchet had to gasp; pure oxygen was something completely new to him. It was a much different taste from the nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere of every other world he'd been on. Wrench gripped tightly in his fist, Ratchet hopped out of the vehicle, which immediately sealed itself away from the toxic environment. Clank was already attached to his back, and together they ventured out into the world.

Almost immediately, Clank noticed that the entrance to the factory he had used earlier was blocked. Most likely by the Blargian militia whom had come to occupy this completely useless factory. Why was Drek even doing this, anyways? Had Clank been caught on camera? The thought that cameras were in this place had, truthfully, never even occurred to him. Even if they had been, what were the chances that they were still transmitting to the Blarg? Very slim, but he still should have considered being more cautious. Almost immediately, the little maintenance 'bot from earlier popped into Clank's head. Perhaps the little thing's death had not been as accidental as Clank had imagined...

Deep within him, something stirred, creating a violent and unpleasant whirling. It was somewhat like anger, but deeper and darker. More... violent. All at once this flew at him, and it was not pleasant in the slightest. This new feeling, in fact, was the most uncomfortable thing he had ever felt. Immediately, he wished to be rid of it. A thought slipped through the cracks in the wall he began building around this emotion: Was this what Ratchet felt towards Qwark? If so, Clank could see why he was so intent on getting the corrupt hero. This burning feeling in his radiator was absolutely horrid, splattered with violence and darkness. It would be hard to combat, had it taken hold.

"We cannot enter this way," He told Ratchet, whose scoff told him exactly what the Lombax thought of his comment. His internal scanners picked up energy signatures coming from above him, and his map showed him alternate routes through the factory. He picked one and spoke, "However, there is an alternate route that will take us to the computer room where we can lift this gate. If you would kindly turn around," Ratchet made a show of spinning quickly, discombobulating the robot for a mere second before he recovered, eyes narrowing. Nice try, but no dice, Lombax, "See that ledge over there? If the measures Bob gave me are correct – and I will assume they are – we can easily glide over there with the Thruster Pack."

Sending a cocky grin back the robot's way, Ratchet responded, "See? Didn't I tell you?"

The robot made a grumbling noise; a reluctant acknowledgment of the good advice Ratchet had given. Victory, Lombax. Feeling good, Ratchet hopped to a nearby platform past the cliff's overhang, looking down at their drop and the masses of green ooze surrounding it. Basic instinct told him landing in that stuff would be nothing but trouble. Curiosity and pure spite kind of wanted to drop Clank into the stuff... but common sense and... his need of a robotic ignition system kept him from doing so. Instead, he poised at the edge of the platform, ready to run back and make as far a jump as he could. Only, instead of moving, his feet remained frozen to the ground.

Clank 'assumed' that Bob was giving him the correct numbers. If he or Bob had screwed up, in any way, it was a one-way trip down into the ooze. And how did he know Clank wasn't exaggerating the numbers in the first place? That landing seemed pretty far away...

"What are you doing?" Inquired the robot, somewhat irritated at their lack of progress.

Ratchet's answer, just as rigid as his normal voice with a hint of hesitant desperation within the vocals, "Are you sure that you can carry us all that way? It seems pretty far..."

The math never lied. Clank had checked and re-checked the work, going over it with a fine-toothed comb. They would make it. He was absolutely certain they would. In fact, there was even room for error in the mix. So, confidently, he confirmed to Ratchet, "I am positive that we will reach the other ledge. All you have to do is jump."

With a moment's hesitation, Ratchet finally backed away, ran for the edge, and jumped, limbs stretch to make them more streamlined; in order to make them move quicker. An appreciated move, which Clank made note of for later study, but a completely unnecessary one. The thruster pack was quite handy, actively slowing Ratchet's descent to the point where they were practically flying over the sea of bubbling green ooze below.

Clank's jet-like engine was just the thing Ratchet needed to calm down after he made the jump. As the sounds of nature soothed other people, his soothing has always come from the machines he worked with and, as such, the sound of an engine was his pitter-pattering rain; was his crashing ocean waves. It was a smooth, streamline sound that could only come from a fine-tuned jet. Now Ratchet could see – hear, rather – why the careless Bob was chosen to keep up the ship back on Pokitaru. How his work purred... unconsciously, Ratchet's muscle tension eased, and with his eyes closed he could almost imagine himself back in that cockpit. Not fighting, necessarily, but just flying over the soft blue ocean; serene, one with the sky around him as he let the wind guide him.

And, just like that, it was over.

Ratchet's feet collided with the ground, something he failed to notice for a moment, lost in daydreams. When he slowly peeled his eyes open, Ratchet was almost disappointed to see the toxic green atmosphere of Orxon through the O2 mask's visor. On his back, Clank pulled the gray wings and jets thrusters into his body, replacing them with his arms and legs.

He was almost smug when he asked, "There, was that so bad?" Almost. It brought Ratchet back to reality, reminding him to focus. They had a mission to accomplish here on Orxon and they would get it done, or his name wasn't Ratchet. And... that was a can of worms he REALLY didn't want to open right now. So, swift and almost angry, the Lombax replied to the robot, keeping his tone in check to prevent any dreariness from creeping in.

"No," Ratchet's voice rang condescendingly in Clank's head; it almost sounded like a whine, "Now let's get moving, already. We have a lot of ground to cover."

So they did. Clank's map noted quite a distance between them and their destination. Already in front of them was quite the obstacle; an electrical fence, most likely activated upon the military's arrival to the base, surrounded by angry creature's who were, for the first time in their short lives, locked out of the only homes they knew. Some stared at it without moving. The lucky ones simply flew around it. One creature dared to approach it, only to be knocked back by the electricity surging through the gate. It then shortly walked away, sporting a limp and horrid new sense of balance as a result of its work. Not terribly long afterwords, the creature crashed onto the ground. It was not dead, if its contorting face was any indication, but contact with those fences would most certainly leave their mark upon whoever dared to touch them.

Ratchet must have noticed the same thing he did, because he almost immediately asked, "Any ideas for disabling that thing?"

Luckily, he had a few. The easiest, however, was staring them right in the face, "See that power coupling, upon the upper levels of the gate?" The Lombax's head tilted upward and upward until, finally, he spotted the glowing box and responded positively, "If we can damage that coupling, somehow, then it will short out the entire system."

"Of course it would do that. Remind me to never hire a Blargian electrician," Was Ratchet's ever-so clever and brilliant response. Clank was not sure what he expected – a thrown rock, another show of acrobatics – but it had certainly not been Ratchet's wrench. He pitched it upward with strength, the thing twirling and spinning as if it were a thrown disk. Upon colliding with the coupling, the thing let out a fantastic display of yellow sparks before shutting down, taking the electrical barrier with it. The mutants gathered around it, amazed at the destruction of the blockade, then streamed through, not even giving a glance to the two creatures behind them.

To Clank, this was a relief. He could clearly remember the swarmers, frenzied, zeroing in on him and his new friend, knocking him back and tearing the smaller robot to shreds. The less contact he was required to have with those monstrous little beasts, the better. To Ratchet, it only served as a convenience, meaning nothing to him personally. He'd just rather not fight through an army of enraged animals to retrieve his beloved wrench, which lied on the ground, slightly scuffed but otherwise undamaged. Almost pleasantly, Ratchet waltzed forward and claimed his tool, buffing out the scuff with the leg of his pants. A slightly pointless venture, as it would likely become scuffed again in the next few minutes, but it was a habit he'd yet to break and probably never would.

"Blargian engineering sucks," Ratchet concluded, displeased with the designs. Had HE been on this, nobody would ever get through. Ever, "but enough about that. Let's keep moving."

* * *

A short, winding path led the duo into what appeared to be a security checkpoint. Awaiting them there was a single Blargian soldier, equipped with a single blaster and leaning against a wall, obviously bored out of his mind. He was tall and thin, like Clank assured Ratchet most Blargians were, and was covered from head to toe with a clunky hazmat suit. Its visor was an opaque gray, forbidding anyone from seeing through to his eyes.

Ratchet and Clank were careful to keep out of sight, with Ratchet poking his head out every once in a while to watch the Blarg merely stand there and do nothing. Just attacking, Clank had claimed, would not work. Their enemy had a strategic advantage, being sheltered from all sides while having a clear shot at the path Ratchet and Clank would have to take. If there was a chance at beating this man, Clank guessed that it would have to come from careful strategy, taking the time to lay out each and every possible route before assessing their opponent's weak points and how to effectively attack them.

To Ratchet, however, these words meant little more than a lot of waiting. Something they didn't exactly have time for, as every second they stalled was another second they risked being discovered. Throw caution to the wind, Ratchet argued. Run straight for him. He was agile enough to dodge anything sent their way, and simply standing around wasn't going to solve anything. To heck with caution! Just let him and his wrench take care of things.

The two of them started arguing over their strategies. Caution over carelessness! No, straight-on action over strategy! They were deadlocked, head to head, and neither could be bothered to work past their differences and acknowledge that maybe the other did have a valid point. It was nothing more than a battle of pointlessness: a developing sense of pride versus the ego of a wounded soul. Such a clash was sure to be harsh and emotional; loud in its impact.

Well, it was certainly loud, at least. Loud enough to catch the attention of the lone, disinterested guard, even with the heavy suit limiting his hearing range. Curiosity, duty and boredom all demanded that he go investigate the strange noises, and so he did, gun posed, probably thinking that it was merely one of the many wild animals that had a tendency to get noisy and annoying when they couldn't find their way back to their nests. He didn't particularly like dealing with the irritating little creatures, but maybe shooting something would at least offer a small amount of change in the otherwise monotonous duty of border watch. He used the walls as cover, maneuvering forth to catch the little swarmer or whatever it was off-guard. Taking a deep breath behind the final cover, he turned the corner and shot.

Ratchet's ears twitched with each of the guards movements and, by the time he made it over to where the two were hiding, knew enough to push Clank out of the way as a single shot rang past them. Had it not been for the hypersensitive ears of the Lombax, the shot would have collided with at least one of them. As was, it merely hit the side of the nearby cliff and dissolved harmlessly. It was from this point that Ratchet, reacting on his well-trusted instincts, gripped his wrench firmly in one hand and went forward, bent on clobbering their opponent in the head. After all, the head is where the brain is. It had to be a vulnerable point, right? But the mask was thick, and Ratchet's wrench merely knocked back his opponent before a shot from his blaster sent Ratchet on the retreat.

Off to the side, a panicked Clank began scanning their opponent's suit for weaknesses. It was well-made, virtually seamless around the normal weak points of the neck, waist and joints. However, a series of tubes in the back of the suit caught the robot's attention. There was one for adrenaline, one for nanotech... aha! The blue tube was specifically designed for the transport of oxygen. Disrupting it would force their opponent to retreat. The only question was: how? Considering it from all angles, the robot determined a route that went behind their opponent without giving him a clear visual of what was happening. Gleeful as to his find, Clank went at it solo: Ratchet was smart, he could figure out what Clank was up to.

And he would have, had he not been busy attempting to wrestle the pistol away from their opponents. Sooner or later one of his shots might actually hit them, and it would greatly increase their chances if he was disarmed. But the Blargian soldier wasn't going down without a fight. He struggled with equal, if not greater strength, using one arm to keep a hold on the gun while the other attempted to pry Ratchet's fingers off of the weapon. But Ratchet wasn't having any of it, keeping a firm hold at all times. Neither party noticed Clank crawling behind the Blargian, intent on sabotaging the system of drugs and oxygen that was being pumped through the suit.

Or, at least, they would not have had the Blargian not taken a step back and tripped over Clank's body.

It was a sudden, shocking surprise; Clank was suddenly locked under the knees of their opponent, who recovered faster than the 'bot in question. His legs pressed down in a conscious attempt to pin the robot. Ratchet, having recovered from the shock of having his opponent suddenly ripped away from him, attacked immediately, pulling the Blargian off of Clank and engaging him in a wrestling match that took both to the ground. The soldier was on top. Then Ratchet. Then the soldier. Clank watched for a mere moment before recalling his plan and giving one loud shout; a simple message to Ratchet. Hold him still. Hold him steady. Hold him down.

Ratchet was unsure about complying. How could he be sure Clank knew what he was doing? But, eventually, it all boiled down to one point: they were deadlocked. Who knows? Maybe Clank could help weaken the guy at least a little. So Ratchet focused all his energy on his opponent's arms, holding them down above the soldier's head and waiting for Clank to act. In turn, the little robot scrambled behind the Blargian, looking at the tubes until he identified the blue one and began pulling at it. The danger was evident to the Blarg soldier at this point and he started yelling for help; screaming. He knew of the danger he was in and he didn't want to die, but it was too late. No help would come. He had been outdone.

Ratchet released him as the struggling became too much for the teenager to handle. But at this point it scarcely mattered; the blue tube was open. He was now breathing in the toxic atmosphere of Orxon, apparently finding it unpleasant as he coughed violently and backed away from the two, dropping his pistol to the ground. He choked and hacked and made a show before tripping backwards, straight off the cliff side and into the green ooze below, which did not hesitate to swallow its unwilling victim. Both Ratchet and Clank watched from above, mesmerized.

Amazing what a little teamwork could do, wasn't it?

* * *

"And can you believe he just dropped his gun?" Ratchet asked, still inspecting the newly acquired weapon in his hands. A simple Blargian sidearm, but it held major modding potential. Give Ratchet some supplies and a couple days and he could have this thing shooting fire jets or lightning. Whichever caught his fancy, "Oh, man, that was lucky for us, huh? And then, when that gunship just showed up out of nowhere and started attacking us? That was awesome!"

Clank, walking beside Ratchet now, frowned at the sudden carefree attitude towards those past few events. Personally, he had not thought that either of them were very 'awesome'. In fact, they had been downright terrifying. Adopting a mix of curiosity and scolding in his tone, Clank asked the Lombax, "How can you possibly find this fun? Did it never occur to you that both of those events could have cost you your life? It could have very easily been you tumbling into that ooze, gasping for air."

The words and tone combined to effectively sober the Lombax, much to Ratchet's displeasure. The exhilaration of running into danger without a care in the world was fading, and Clank's reminders of how they had been a coin toss away from defeat was not helping things. Even so, he decided to address the question as best he could, "I dunno. It's kind of like my brain got tired of being scared of all this dangerous stuff I'm being dragged through," Again, the voice that he used made a very clear, if unspoken, accusation towards the robot, "and just switched out the fear with excitement."

"I had no idea that organic brains could do that," Clank commented, hand meeting his forehead in a movement that was part exasperation and part amazement.

Shrugging, Ratchet twirled the gun and hung it to his pants by one of the belt loops, "Well, I dunno if that's really the case. I'm no virtuoso in the psychology of organics."

The out-of-context usage of large words – especially from someone like Ratchet, who had never shown any interest in proving his intellect – caught Clank off-guard. He stopped walking for a moment as his mental processes scrambled to catch up after gulping down that interesting tidbit of data. Not that he had ever assumed Ratchet stupid, but he had always assumed the Lombax's intelligence lied in more practical applications. Never would he have thought that the young organic might possess what organics would call 'book smarts'.

Somehow, Clank doubted he would ever stop being surprised by the Lombax.

Ratchet turned to walk backwards, grinning at him with all the confidence the Lombax could muster, "C'mon, robot boy! We don't exactly have all day to just dilly-dally, do we?" He topped this off with a carefree chuckle as Clank tossed him a look that seemed a little frustrated. The better he got at interpreting the robot's moods, the more fun it was to entice him into said moods. Every time he felt something new, he had to intently dissect it, resulting in this interesting, almost zoned-out expression until he finally got it. By evoking these feelings consciously, Ratchet was merely helping him figure it all out. No harm in that, right?

Neither noticed the soldier hiding behind the factory's exhaust piping until it was almost too late. The oversized thug suddenly popped out, tackling Ratchet to the ground. Without movement, the still soldier had not been detected by the large ears that adorned the Lombax's head. And Clank had registered no scans of weapon energy, which meant that he had kept his weapon uncharged while awaiting the intruders. Smart man. Clank was a fair distance away, already moving towards the two when Ratchet reached to pull out his brand new... Omniwrench?

Certainly enough, when in danger, the Lombax reached for the broken tool instead of the loaded new weapon he had not two minutes ago been admiring. What kind of sense was that? Moreover, the mechanic did not appear to be doing to well against the large Blargian man. Eventually, it was luck that saved the Lombax; he managed to get in a stunning blow, which knocked the soldier backwards. He then proceeded to trip – a combination of luck, fortunate (or ill, depending on which side you took) placement of rocks near the edge and the suit's overall clunky nature. The green ooze howled in pleasure when he collided with it, before proceeding to engulf him whole just as it had his brother-in-arms. The toxic waste would not go hungry tonight.

Enough of this, Clank decided, angered. That tool had been a nuisance from the moment it had been damaged on Orxon, but now it was actively threatening their mission. This could not go on.

Ratchet did not seem to take the near-loss as badly as Clank did. In fact, he was smiling in exhilaration of the attack. Unexpected as it may have been, it had proceeded to elevate his adrenaline to high enough levels to satisfy his sudden craving for action. Only when they reached the control room, just one story up from where Ratchet got attacked, did that adrenaline fade when Clank saw fit, once again, to lecture him on his fighting habits, or whatever else caught him while he was in a bad mood.

"You need to be more careful than that!" The robot placed both fists at his hips, casting his companion a sour look, "If you continue to not take this seriously, and use broken tools as opposed to perfectly functioning weapons while defending yourself- HEY!" Ratchet had turned away to mess with the computer, already bored with Clank's little speech. Irritation getting to him, the robot picked out a sore spot and began eating away at it, "Fine. You do not care what happens to you? Whatever. It is none of my concern. However, so long as you are working with me, I feel the need to remind you of the thousands of lives we are attempting to save! This is not just some silly little game. And with your continued negligence of your own arsenal, we are severally inhibiting ourselves in this war against the Blarg."

Ratchet looked him over carefully, eyes darkened, "My wrench," His voice grew uncharacteristically deep, "works just fine."

"Your wrench," Clank echoed, voice emulating Ratchet's in a process known as 'mocking', "is a piece of junk. You are only inhibiting our efforts – your revenge and my quest to save the galaxy – by holding onto it. Furthermore, you prove yourself no more intelligent than those who blindly follow Captain Qwark," Ratchet stiffened and, knowing he had uncovered a weak point, Clank continued to push the knife deeper, "After all, your faith in something so utterly worthless is no different than the hopeless devotion of those people whom you mock!"

The muscles in Ratchet's arms and hands had tensed, causing him to hold even tighter to the wrench in his hands. Scowling, Ratchet turned swiftly to meet Clank's eyes, causing the robot to flinch away from him, "You want me to give up my wrench," The way it was spoken, the words clearly were not meant as a question, "You want me to give up the only thing that stuck by me throughout the years. The only thing I could ever call 'mine'," Before Clank could respond to the quiet rage of his tone, he had to duck as Ratchet's wrench suddenly flew out of his hands. It was not spinning, like it had been when Ratchet had meant it to attack. Instead, it had been hastily hurled from the hands of one enraged Lombax, who's voice grew louder and angrier, "Fine then! Take the stupid thing; I don't need it! Go ahead, go burn it or throw it away or whatever! I don't care anymore!" Scowling, Ratchet turned away, towards the alternate exit that Clank's maps told him lead back to their ship through the factory.

For a moment, all Clank could stand to do was watch Ratchet's retreating back. He should be happy. He had, after all, beaten the Lombax at his own game, for once in his life. He had proven himself superior to the organic. So... why did he feel like he had lost? Giving a look of sorrow in the direction Ratchet had gone, Clank hastily typed the command code into the computer, so that Ratchet could get back to the ship and they could re-enter the factory and make their way to the central computer chamber. He turned to leave... then paused, looking back towards the discarded wrench now laying helplessly against the wall. Should he leave without it, the thing would forever be lost to the depths of Blargian history. For some reason, the thought disturbed Clank a lot more than it should have.

He took a quick glance at the door, then hastily ran up to and grabbed the wrench, examining it. Really, the damage had not been as bad as he had been making out this whole time. Perhaps it could still be fixed. Perhaps... the wrench was suddenly stuffed into the robot's internal storage compartment before Clank himself could rethink the act, and off the robot went to join up with his teammate.

* * *

Ratchet refused to talk.

This was an entirely new experience. While Ratchet had made shows before of not caring about his opinion, he had never actively ignored the robot. Even when pretending not to listen, he was always making little noises that signified amusement or annoyance with his words. But now, it was as if Ratchet wasn't even hearing his words, let alone listening. The silence caused a bubble of tension to pop up within the robot's core and, with every attempt made to alleviate the silence, it only got bigger and bigger. Eventually, it would grow to big for his small metal form to handle and pop.

In reality, Ratchet's ignorance of the robot was out of a sense of shame. He'd really made himself look like an idiot back there. And then he'd thrown the stupid thing... dammit, how childish was that? The blaster wasn't helping a bit; its grip was unfamiliar, lacking the calming intimacy of the Omniwrench that had been with him through thick and thin. Even if Clank was right, and it was a broken piece of scrap... well, it was still more than he'd had all his life. He very much wished that he had gotten a hold on his temper back there. Or at least, that he hadn't just thrown away his wrench.

The path to the supercomputer lead them through the factory, onto a winding path outside of the facility. It was littered with those little mutants who seemed to have either been at their nests or accepted their losses and made new ones, because the majority of them were sound asleep as Ratchet and Clank passed. Once, upon passing a whole clan of them, a small little blue creature let out a startling shriek that made Ratchet's ears curl into themselves. It also had the nasty side effect of awakening ever creature in-range, which resulted in a mad scramble by the duo to get away from the mad creatures, who, as any wild creature would, scrambled to chase out the intruders and protect their homes.

Once a safe distance away, Ratchet stood and watched as the creature's returned to their nest, all still keeping a wary eye out for the return of the intruder. They looked so at peace in a place that was so hostile towards any organic lifeforms, let alone those without the intelligence to build things to keep them safe. How could they be so at peace? For the first time in a while, his thoughts traveled back to Veldin. The planet's inhabitants lacked in brains and tact, making them generally unpleasant people to be around. But the planet itself always provided just the right amount of sun; just the right amount of heat. Not that he liked the planet, but after visiting such wonders as Batalia and Orxon... well, there were worse places to grow up.

Every step forward brought the duo closer and closer to the central computer chamber. Along the way they came across a metallic pathway, created in an age where overpopulation was such a problem that one had to be able to literally walk on walls in order to get anywhere. Apprehensive, Ratchet took his time to pull on his shoes, still closing his ears to Clank. The robot, knowing nothing he said would get through, did not bother instructing Ratchet on how to tie his shoes. Instead, he merely watched as Ratchet repeated his actions from last time, the process only slightly quicker. He really should have been trying to move him along, get him to do this faster, but Clank could not seem to summon any will to do so. Instead, he merely watched silently as Ratchet fitted the shoes on and then, almost hesitantly, offered a hand to the robot. His expression, though... it was like glass. So fragile, doing nothing but shining through to the exhaustion and numbness that was at the core of Ratchet's being. Just as coldly, Clank accepted the invitation and, moments later, was attached to Ratchet's back as they began their ascent.

Ratchet decided, shortly afterwords, that he hated these metal walkways. While stuck to this metal strip his movements were clunky and forced, having to move cautiously for once in his life. He very much would have preferred just climbing on the thing. While it might have been more difficult, the familiarity and lack of restraint of the challenge would have been welcome. But he didn't want another argument with Clank – not right now, anyways – and so he just shut up and kept moving. Ugh, how slow they were moving. It just wasn't natural for anything as simple as walking to be so hard...

The Blarg were naturally paranoid creatures. This was less like your typical paranoid person, in which case it was a personality trait, and more of an inborn response to a world where even breathing wrong could get you killed. Naturally, they took no chances and spared no expense with their security. So, upon setting his unnaturally heavy boot upon a strategically-placed pressure plate, Ratchet yelped and lost his balance as a jet of fire flew out in front of his face, the natural momentum of the gas causing it to jet upward. For one single terrifying moment, they were struggling to balance, hanging on only by Ratchet's one boot. It took a second for him to regain his sense of balance, but still his heart beat wildly in his chest, very much tangible to both him and Clank.

After some careful maneuvering, the fire was behind them. Though neither spoke of it aloud, both could still feel the aftermath. Ratchet's palpable heartbeat was evidence to both that they'd gotten out alive. Now all that was left to do was move on and finish what had been started on Veldin.

* * *

Upon arriving at the end of the metal walking platform, Ratchet and Clank came across another electric gate, this one with a telecommunication orb hovering just above it. While only a convenient way to get across for Ratchet, the sight of it left Clank uneasy. Telecommunication orbs were used to set up short-range transmission of messages. Not entirely sure who was sending what kind of messages, Clank attempted to hack the orb's communication relay, concentrating at the device with a spaced-out appearance on his face. Just one more firewall and...

"_Do you have the trap set up?"_

"_Affirmative. Once they round this corner, those two are as good as dead."_

"_Excellent. Supreme Executive Chairman Drek will be pleased to learn of the disposal of those two criminals. Do not contact me again unless they are disposed of... or you are in need of assistance."_

"_Rodger."_

Clank blinked once. Twice. Then, quickly, he disengaged himself from Ratchet's tool harness, using one hand to hold onto his shoulder so that he would not fall off, and turned so that he was looking over Ratchet's shoulder. If the Lombax was bothered by the change, he did not show it. Still, Clank had to get his attention.

"Ratchet," He spoke once, then louder when Ratchet still ignored him, "RATCHET," The loudness of his tone caused Ratchet to wince, thus forcing him to acknowledge the speaker. It bothered Clank, a bit, how Ratchet flinched under loud noises. Still, though, he kept his resolve, not speaking to or even looking at the robot. Not even the slightest glance or acknowledgment, other than that unconscious response. Pop.

Without warning, Clank grasped onto the large ears and pulled them just hard enough to cause a dash of pain. The resulting screech caused a minor satisfaction within the robot, something he would later feel guilt over, but for the moment it was just the slightest bit pleasing. Just the slightest bit. And then, without warning, the leathery gloves of the Lombax grasped him roughly and pulled him over Ratchet's shoulder, throwing him into a large boulder. Minor damage, but from the heavy way the Lombax was breathing, he could guess that Ratchet was not entirely pleased with his actions.

Taking gasping breaths, Ratchet screeched at him, his voice becoming different in its high pitch, "What the hell was that for?!"

"Well, you were not listening to me!" Snapped the robot, picking himself off the ground. A diagnostic scans registered minor damage to his legs, but other than that he was unharmed, "I needed to make sure you heard me when I told you that we were walking right into a trap!"

"A trap, huh?" Ratchet's voice held venom, spread thick in every word he spewed at Clank, "And what kind of trap is it? How can we avoid it? Is there any way around it?"

Faltering under Ratchet's inquiry, Clank had to admit that he did not know any of these answers. I do not know. I do not know. I do not know. There was nothing he could say to deter the Lombax as he moved forward, not bothering to stop or slow down to allow Clank to catch up. It was only when they both faintly heard the charge of a gun did Ratchet move quickly, scooping up Clank in both arms as he had never done before and sprinting across the narrow passageway.

It had been the perfect way to corner them. Below them was the ooze, always hungry for more victims. Their way back or forward was relatively clear of obstacles, meaning a lack of cover. All they could do was run. As they moved, Clank used the time he spent not moving to scan over the vehicle firing at them. A helicopter-esque machine that fired bullets at them, trailing along the platform quickly. Eventually, it would catch up to and overtake them. But he could also see weaknesses in the machinery. The same poor electrical engineering that plagued most Blargian designs. Quickly, he began speaking to Ratchet, "I know this may sound odd, but we are going to have to jump on that thing!"

"WHAT?!" Ratchet spared a moment to look at him, "There's no way- we'll get ourselves killed!"

"We will get ourselves killed either way!" Clank snapped, then paused. No, arguing was what got them into this mess... and the last one they were in. And the last one, probably. He was going to need to be cautious with how he phrased things, "At least this way, we will have a fighting chance. Do you honestly want to die running?"

That phrase caught Ratchet off-guard, mostly in how true it was. He would rather not die running from the problem, like... Veldin. Umbris. Batalia. He always seemed to be running, evading the problem. Not this time. Not today. Without much warning to Clank, Ratchet swung the little robot onto his back and made a mad dash towards the edge of the platform, waiting and timing his jump so that he would land on the thing's wing. It was a difficult jump, and landing he could have sworn he'd broken his ankle, but the pain hardly seemed to matter. Instead, he crawled on top of the cockpit, attempting to smash through the thing with the butt of his gun. Panicked, the pilot began flying off and performing stunts in an attempt to shake him off. Ratchet simply dug his fingers into the few gripping spots he could find and held on for dear life as Clank, thinking who knows what, disengaged and made his way over to some electrical wiring by the side, pulling on it. The result was a full three-sixty spin where Clank, having not had the forethought to grab something, nearly fell into the ooze below. And would have, had Ratchet not caught him by the hand. Eventually, the ship evened out some, and Clank directed Ratchet's attention to an exposed power coupling on the side of the ship, which was destroyed with a simple hit. The ship began sputtering and coughing loudly, going down and heading straight into the green goop, which shimmered in hunger at the sight.

Hastily, Ratchet hopped off, with Clank following suit using the thruster pack. The two landed on the platform at the end of the walkway and watched the rather anti-climatic fall of the ship right into the green ooze, which consumed this treat slowly, savoring the taste of the metal. The two exchanged a look before wordlessly moving on. Without warning, Clank felt Ratchet's hand around his own and was hoisted back onto the harness. Suddenly, he decided, things were looking up.

* * *

Ratchet paused suddenly, his ears flicking upward. What was that...?

"Growl..."

"Okay, are you hearing that too?" Ratchet asked. Distant memories of hearing things no one else seemed to be able to popped into his head, and he briefly wondered if this would be a repeat of those incidents. To his surprise, Clank answered to the affirmative on his back, but sounded strangely off as he did so. If he had been emotionless when they'd first met, then this was nothing short of lifeless.

Once again surprising Ratchet, Clank disconnected from his harness and landed on the ground, stumbling a little on his feet. Standing erect, Clank walked slowly towards the center of the room, the red antenna on his head suddenly taking on a brighter than normal glow. One it only took when Clank was reaching out to computerized devices, Ratchet recalled. He wondered, briefly, what Clank was reaching out to this time and, as if to answer him, a small, rusted over maintenance 'bot crept out from underneath one of the computers, staring at them with anger burning in its eyes.

Clank could only gap at the sight. The maintenance 'bot he had once thought was dead was here, alive! Still rusted, and it was clear the damage done by the swarmers had not been completely repaired, but he was alive and that was all that mattered. Enthusiastically, Clank reached out mentally, asking questions and expressing relief over its survival.

Over the com-link, there was no response. In reality, however, the thing let out another snarl and approached slowly, as if it were a predator approaching its pray. Confused and more than a little hurt, Clank tried once again to reach out to the little creature. What was wrong? Why was it acting like this?

The maintenance 'bot acted as if it had not even heard Clank, creeping closer and closer. Eventually, Clank had to back up; the proximity to a creature that emitted such feral sounds, sans Ratchet, was a frightening thought. And even Ratchet had brought out fear in him on more than a few occasions. Still, it came closer and closer and, once it judged the distance close enough, pounced for Clank. Only barely was the robot able to dodge, startled at the behavior. What had changed? Had this been Blargian reprogramming? Or was this the result of the swarmers tearing into it? Or... or was it just feeling betrayed over Clank's supposed abandoning of it?

Ratchet watched with a patience he wasn't aware he had. Clank's interactions with the thing were almost... too intimate, even for machines that could communicate within their own minds. He had definitely met this thing before, but it seemed the maintenance 'bot was not too happy with this reunion. Only when the defect pounced for Clank did Ratchet deem it dangerous and brought out his pistol, aiming straight between its eyes as it lay on the floor recovering. Only one thing stopped him: Clank.

The robot moved quickly to get in between Ratchet and the maintenance 'bot. Mustering as much emotion as he could, he pleaded to the organic, "Please, do not harm this robot! He is my friend..."

Having recovered, the maintenance 'bot spotted Clank's unprotected back and let out a predatory growl, low and dangerous, before tackling Clank to the ground. The robot, unprepared, offered no resistance as his arm was bitten and pulled at, tearing the wires in his arm slightly. A single shot was fired; Ratchet had panicked and, as organics tend to do when they have no idea what action to take, acted on instinct and fired. The small 'bot collapsed to the ground, the circuitry in its head fizzling and crackling. Clank could only stare at the mess of wires and bolts that had once been his ally.

Losing the smaller, older 'bot the second time around had a numbing effect. He had already mourned the small 'bot, so seeing him die after a failure to reconnect could only bring remorse. Deciding not to dwell long on the other robot's fate, Clank made his way up to the computer and almost immediately picked up a transmission from Chairman Drek to every infobot across the planet. Without a word, he began streaming the transmission to his own infobot, grateful that, while Ratchet's burning gaze was clearly questioning, he had opted to remain silent, standing to the side of the room. A single gesture once the download was complete brought him into the center of the room and, together, they watched the message Clank's infobot was now showing.

* * *

"_Greetings, people of Orxon and all of the Blargian military bravery fighting for the cause of our race's future!" The short man in the suit began, his lips curled into a charming smile. Behind him was a backdrop of snow and ice across a sterile white facility, "Our new planet is, I am proud to say, very near completion! Eighty-five percent, in fact. And since our last planet-wide update, we have picked the perfect orbit for our beloved new planet, where we will have optimum temperature all year round! The only snag is that there is already a planet occupying that orbit... a miserable little rock. The galaxy should be paying us to get rid of it, really. But, since they are not, we will just do the job as a work of charity and replace it with our planet as payment."_

_The camera suddenly panned out, revealing what appeared to be a large missile._

"_In order to destroy this planet, we have developed this: the Planet Buster Maximus. With this, the planet will be blasted to subatomic dust! We already have plans have a specially designed ship covertly drop this missile into the planet's orbit, and once it collides... kaboom!" The Blargian leader laughed, like it was the most hilarious thing ever, "Once we place the finishing touches on the missile, you will be receiving another update! Thank you, Orxon! Goodnight!"_

* * *

"So this guy's just gonna blow up a planet?!" Ratchet snapped, walking back and forth, "J-just like that! Just... kaboom! ARG!" Ratchet pulled on his own ears, a habit he'd thought he'd kicked when he was a child, "I don't understand! Why didn't these guys just ask the rest of the galaxy for help? Solana's got a few spare planets. I'm sure someone would give them a new home."

Clank hesitated, unknowing as to how he could explain it. His mind was still whirling, discombobulated over the second time he had scene that very infobot die... and by Ratchet's hands, no less. Taking a moment to calm himself, Clank spoke carefully, "The Blarg are just as proud a race as they are a stupid one. They will always pick the most convoluted, insane and harmful path so long as it means they will preserve their egos and image as warlords."

"It's just stupid," Ratchet huffed, leaning against a wall, "This is getting a little too big. Maybe we SHOULD call in the galactic authorities..." The idea was cringe-worthy, but stealing sections of planets was one thing. Actively building devices to destroy them was quite another.

Almost immediately, Clank spun around, face pleading and horrified, "PLEASE. Please, do not. The coordinates of the transmission indicate that it came from planet Hoven. We can head there ourselves and undo this, just... please, no galactic rangers."

Why did he sound so fearful when he spoke? Ratchet had no idea, but it had been along, exhausting day for the both of them. Right now, all he wanted was a good rest. So he let it go, for now, "Alright, fine. Whatever. It's your mission. I'm still gunning for Qwark."

Gratitude swarmed the robot. He looked to the ground and started muttering, "Thank you. Thank you so much..."

"Ah, knock it off, pal," Clank looked up at the word. There had been an air of teasing to it, but Ratchet had not spoken it in malice, "It's been a long day. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Let's head back to the ship."

* * *

Clank was still acting glum, even as they finally reentered the ship. Ratchet decided, almost immediately, that he didn't like this air of depression hanging over the robot. So, taking off the mask and inhaling deeply, Ratchet spoke, more at him than to him, "I had a friend, once."

Slowly, the little robot looked up. Was Ratchet talking about him? He hung onto the edge of his seat and asked Ratchet, tone low and full of question, "Did you?"

"Yeah," Ratchet leaned back in his seat, staring absently at the steering mechanism, "When I was a little kid, my roommate was always so nice to me. He always did everything he could to make me laugh, even if it meant getting himself in trouble," A faint grin reached the Lombax's face as pleasant memories passed through his mind.

A bit relieved that Ratchet had not been talking about him, and curious as to the identity of this past friend, Clank decided to take the plunge and asked, "What happened?"

"He died."

Their was a tone of finality and gloom within the word. It was entirely unpleasant, contagious in its horror. He died. No euphemism. No stepping around the subject. Just a blatant, flat line of straight truth. Somewhat sheepish now, Clank quietly spoke, "I apologize for your loss."

Ratchet gave him a good, long look, then shrugged off his apology, "Don't. It was a long time ago. I've gotten over it," Sighing, Ratchet crawled down into the hold, where he planned to curl up in the corner and take a nice, long nap, "My advice? Don't ever make any friends. They always end up leaving you in the end."

And, with that and a tacked on yawn, Ratchet fell into the land of nod for a short slumber. Clank only watched, setting the autopilot for Hoven's coordinates without looking. Then, as soon as he was certain Ratchet was asleep, he pulled the wrench out of his chest compartment and gave it a good long stare. Ratchet had commented about this thing being the only thing that was 'his'. He had so obviously cared deeply about it. And now, to further Clank's quest, he had sacrificed it.

Without any coherent thought about what he was doing or why, Clank activated the holo-computer and set to work on the repairs. Ratchet had already repaired all the hardware that he could. Now Clank would repair the software. With the number of times this thing saved his life, it was only fair, right?

Right.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Whoa... this chapter ended up being way deeper than I intended. Loads of metaphors and stuff. Deep, man.

It's also kind of shorter than I thought it would be. Ah well. Who cares how long anything is anyways, right? Right. The two of these guys are finally showing that teamwork momentum that is so engrained in the Ratchet and Clank franchise. We can also see the development of a genuine friendship out of all of this. Kind of ironic, considering Ratchet's opinion on friends at the moment. And speaking of friends, what do you think of Ratchet's former friend? Think REALLY hard, now. Go back and read some of the earlier chapters. Then tell me what opinion you've arrived at. I'm kind of curious.

But, in all seriousness, this might be my favorite chapter. I will refrain from confirming that until the story has finished, however. We shall see.

What did I do good on?: The wrench metaphor. It works perfectly. And the best part is, Crack in Time already set it up for me, so I only had to work off of the given material. Thanks, Insomniac!

What did I fail on?: The part with the helicopter is easily the weakest part of this chapter. Just saying.

Random Question for Reviewers: What song do you think most fits my portrayal of Ratchet? Be honest, people. I kind of like working with music playing in the background.


	15. Hoven: Empathy

Blinking his eyes open, Ratchet first saw nothing but white. It consumed his vision, causing him to rapidly open and shut his eyes in an attempt to alleviate the pain of light entering his too wide retinas.

It took a moment for them to adjust and when they did, Ratchet looked immediately to his left.

Clank, sitting patiently in the pilot's seat, stared back impassively.

There was a moment of peaceful silence. It wasn't forced by lack of things to say. There was plenty to say, like 'where the heck are we?' or 'what's that stuff covering the viewport?'. But he was still tired and befuddled, like any organic would be after a good rest, so he took it easy and gently rubbed at his eyes. There was no rush from the robot, who just kept his gaze focused on the Lombax's face, nonchalant for once.

Finally, when Ratchet had more or less gathered his bearings, he asked the robot to his left, "Where are we?"

"We are parked in service section five dash three at the refueling station sigma nine on the planet Hoven. Approximately fourteen point five kilometers from the arms factory that the Blarg had taken over while creating the Planet Buster Maximus. I would have landed us closer, but the anti-aircraft system would have blown us out of the sky," Here, Clank stopped staring at him and looked at the steering mechanism, "It seems that Qwark does not have authorization to enter this facility. But I digress."

Ratchet gave a short nod. The decision made sense, even if the distant parking was going to be a pain in the rear later, "Alright," He spoke loudly, "Let's get moving," He pressed down upon the button that released the hatch and hopped out of the ship, sliding down the side to the ground.

Almost immediately after he landed, the foreign feeling of ice surrounded and numbed his uncovered feet. Utterly shocked by the feeling, Ratchet reacted on his fight-or-flight instincts and scrambled back up the sides into the ship, diving into his seat and peeking cautiously back over the side to the area where he landed. Piles of white... stuff littered the ground, creating large heaps all over the abandoned fuel station. In the spot where he had landed, two vaguely foot-shaped holes had been created in the white fluff. What the hell...?

"Clank," Ratchet's voice wobbled only the slightest bit as he spoke, "What the hell is that stuff?"

The robot gave him a look, then scanned the white fluff, his red antenna glowing as he did, "What you just stepped in is a crystallized form of H2O, created within the upper atmosphere of the planet as evaporated water freezes at temperatures zero degrees Celsius or below, creating unique patterns for each particular H2O crystal," He paused for a second, as if contemplating something, then added, "Most organics call this substance 'snow'."

Snow... how strange. More cautious now, Ratchet lowered himself back over the edge, into the fluffy white snow. It spread vastly over each horizon, covering everything that stood uncovered in this vast field, including their ship. The cold numbness surrounded and embraced his uncovered feet, and Ratchet could feel it attempting to soak through the legs of his pants. More of this 'snow' stuff fell from the sky at a gentle speed, unaided by wind. The air was chilling around his unclothed fur, seeping through the course hair and into his bloodstream. Cold, circulating through his veins, deeper into his soul...

Shivering slightly, Ratchet disregarded his musings and complained to Clank, "It's cold!"

"The temperature reads twenty degrees below Celsius..." Clank frowned pointedly, stroking his chin, "An oddly warm day for Hoven, actually. Nonetheless, I do agree. This temperatures can be quite intense, especially to someone who has grown up on a desert planet."

The robot turned to Ratchet, who had long since stopped paying attention. He had picked up a clump of the snow for further examination, shivering a little as the cold waters soaked into his glove. Gingerly bringing the substance up to his nose, he noticed that it had no smell and, on a whim, probed the small white fluff with his tongue. It was almost like water, except a whole lot colder. Retracting his face from the cold snow in his hand, Ratchet glanced to Clank, who stared at him patiently, then back to the snow. Then back and forth again. A mischievous smirk slowly spread across his face and, without warning, he threw the handful of snow into the robot's face, causing Clank to take a step back and fall into a large pile of the stuff.

The sight was rather comical. Ratchet chuckled half-heartedly under his breath in response.

It took Clank a few precious moments of time to dig himself out of the pile. The snow was soft and fresh, and every attempt to pull himself out only ended with more snow caving in on him. Ratchet leaned on the ship, focusing on the cold metal's feel against his unprotected back. A quick memory of their conversation on Orxon came to light, and Ratchet brushed it aside. That was a demon he'd already conquered; focusing on it would do nothing but hinder their quest. And hopefully, maybe, they would find evidence of Qwark's whereabouts here. That would be nice.

When the robot finally did manage to dig himself out, he still had little bits of white snow on his form, evoking another laugh from the Lombax. Clank himself failed to find the situation amusing, "Are you quite done fooling around now? If so, then may we please get back to the business of saving the galaxy? If that is not too much trouble."

Ratchet frowned, all laughter ceasing, "You know, I don't HAVE to escort you to that factory or anything," Even so, he moved to grab the robot's hand and pull him onto the harness, "I mean, give me a break, here. I've never seen snow before."

There was something akin to a sigh from the 'bot, exasperation made clear, "I know that, Ratchet. However, we do have more pressing matters at hand. You may come back and play in the snow later, but for now PLEASE stay focused and act your age."

At this point, they'd begun moving. The numbing nature of the snow and height of the piles of it made it difficult to walk, but Ratchet trudged onward, careful to watch out for any kind of predator that could actually survive in this environment, "Alright, fine. But, to be fair, I'd like to think I'm a tad more mature than your average sixteen year old."

A stretch of time passed, during which Clank was unusually silent. Then, just before their ship faded out of sight, he spoke again, "You are only sixteen?"

"Yup," Ratchet spoke simply; he didn't really want to spare any energy on long responses. The snow was almost up to his mid-thighs and navigating it was difficult enough without having to worry about Clank. With that in mind, he should probably be grateful that the robot was attached to his back. This was hard enough for Ratchet to climb through; Clank had almost no change of making the required distance in this fluff.

Another short silence, before Clank murmured, "I was not aware of that. I assumed you were older."

"Well," Ratchet drawled, double-checking his harness, "You know what they say about assumptions: they're dangerous things to make."

* * *

They were closing in on the facility, and fast. Clank had determined after a thorough examination of the facility from the maps within his memory banks that a cave system existed underneath the facility, acting as an emergency escape... or an emergency entrance, as the case seemed to be.

Ratchet's fascination with snow had soon wavered; he shivered violently between every step. It took a vast effort in order for him to even more forward, and he kept his arms wrapped around his form the entire way. Deep in Clank's memory banks, information about an organic affliction known as 'hypothermia' popped up. Plainly speaking, organics who became too cold died. And Ratchet, having little to no protection from the elements, was more susceptible to the cold temperatures than any other warm-blooded organic. And he was still so young...

Ratchet shuttered more violently against his back. The constant beating had slowed slightly since arriving, and it was in all honesty a bit worrying. Perhaps because he had gotten used to the rhythmic beating against him as they traveled... well, whatever the case for his concern may be, there was nothing much he could do but wait on Ratchet's back.

An unusual emotion perforated his consciousness. It was very uncomfortable.

The cavern entrance had not been terribly far from there landing site. By the time they'd reached it, the sparse spreading of snow across the vast, empty plains had expanded into a generous snowstorm, aided in obscuring their vision by a strong westward wind. For Clank, who could look at the field through both echo location and satellite imaging, the sudden loss of visual contact was no problem. For beings dependent on optical stimuli, like Ratchet, this must have been a nightmare to traverse. The Lombax didn't complain, though, despite multiple instances of him tripping over his own feet.

Shortly after ducking into the cave, Ratchet fell to the ground, back pressed up against the cool walls and taking deep gulps of air. He was still shivering all over and, when his idle eyes caught Clank's examining stare, he responded tiredly, "J-just give me a moment, 'kay? I'll be fine in a second."

It was an unneeded delay, but Clank complied without complaint. There had been a change in their relationship, subtle and, until now, unaddressed. But since it occurred, Clank had been reviewing his memories of Ratchet with a new perspective; a more sympathetic one. So he simply sat back and examined Ratchet curiously. The Lombax had never been easy to deal with, but now that there seemed to be a reason behind it, he could not bring himself to be upset with – or even annoyed at – Ratchet's previous behavior. Knowing that there was a rational reason behind it really helped.

"Okay," Ratchet muttered, then repeated louder, "okay! I'm ready to go now. Lead the way, pal."

Pal: a term of endearment used to address a close associate. Clank was unsure how to feel about its sparse usage. Despite the revealing conversation on Orxon, there was still a distance; was it appropriate for Ratchet to be using such nicknames?

"Very well," He responded, still unsure, "Please re-attach me to your back and I will relay instructions as we move along. These tunnels have been documented by the factory owners, and in a few moments..." As they talked, Clank sent out a wireless signal, directed towards the factory's internal computers. The firewalls were downright pitiful; the Blarg must have taken over the place recently, lest these deplorable defenses would have already been updated. A quick search and the maps popped up, ready for download. Just to be sure, though, he double checked the document and almost scoffed aloud at the meek virus clinging onto it. A simple purge would be all it took to clear the file.

_Downloading... 5%... 43%... 79%... Download complete._

The map unfurled within his processors, revealing an intricate series of tunnels spanning like a labyrinth underneath a roughly thirty kilometer radius. Some went deep into the planet and some rose up into a mountain range not far from their destination. Some went around the entire diameter of the tunnel system and others cut off abruptly. Some were natural; most were created by the workers of the factory in order to mine the incredibly rare substance known as raritanium. Making notes as he went, Clank continued where he left off, "...There. I have a complete map of the tunnel system."

"Goodie," Ratchet gave something of a smile; it failed to give off any level of satisfaction with the arrangement. Apparently, Clank was still not trusted. Before this revelation could be addressed, orally or visually, Ratchet moved forward, grabbing the robot's hand and pulling him onto the bolt harness. Concentrating on the quickest, most efficient route, Clank marked a path on the document and began audibly relaying instructions to Ratchet.

This was how they progressed, slowly but steadily. Ratchet's health seemed to improve some upon exiting the snowstorm. He was still shivering, but the icy coldness was alleviated somewhat by steam released from pipes running alongside the cavern walls. Ratchet stopped repeatedly to hold his hands over the jets of boiled water. Each time he did so, he stopped shivering for a miniscule time and moved slightly faster.

Ratchet, for all of his complaining, did not once question one of Clank's directions. He seemed more interested in carefully watching each side of the room, one hand tensed around the blaster that lay in his beloved wrench's place. The actual wrench was tucked away in the robotic guide's storage compartment, banging uncomfortably against the sides of his innards. It was operating at forty-five percent capacity, having given Clank a surprising amount of trouble during the repair process. What he had expected to be a simplistic, if not tiresome and monotonous, had been made difficult by surprisingly sophisticated programming. It was as if the computer existed in layers, each one modifying the other. It also had not helped that several of these computer systems had been broken already.

He estimated twelve to fourteen hours of work before the wrench was completely repaired. Assuming his rate of repair did not improve.

Every system and subsystem brought them deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, each wall a mix of natural stony outcropping, carved and smoothed rocks and machinery that went from the factory to who-knows-where. In retrospect, it would have been all too easy to find their way through the cavern. All they really had to do was follow the piping layered over the craggy tunnel system.

Occasionally, the monotonous tunnels would change tune by leading them into large caverns, sometimes with large stalactites hanging from the tall roofs. Each one was enough of a pace-breaker for Ratchet to pause and look at curiously. He had not been quite as enthralled with the tunnel system as he had with the snow, but he still examined each new thing curiously as they passed. There was a sense of intelligence that radiated with every analysis his mind made. It was almost... familiar... as if... as if he was processing these things... as a robot would.

Perhaps they weren't so different after all...

Eventually, they came to yet another large cavern. The place was just about the same as the other bigger chambers they had entered; stalactites, dripping ice shards and other various cave decorum. The only true difference in this particular cavern was the large, gushing pillar of ice water streaming down the wall to the right and the resulting lake it made that flooded two or three caverns ahead of them.

"Alright," Ratchet asked, glancing at the multitude of pathways that stretched out from this room, "Which way do we go from here?"

An impasse was reached.

The fastest, most efficient way to the factory was through the flooded passages. It was a long swim, almost two kilometers, but the O2 mask they had secured would guarantee that Ratchet could make it the entire way without requiring air pockets. But the water was cold, just barely above the point of freezing, and to for Ratchet to swim through it with no proper equipment to keep himself warm... the hypothermia he was still struggling against would most certainly take hold. An obvious consequence was death.

An alternate route lead through a cavern system to the right. It was a major detour, but it would also guarantee their safe arrival. A difficult choice, indeed. Clank prepared his internal processors for a rigorous set of simulations and was almost disappointed at how easy the decision actually was.

"To the right, Ratchet," Clank spoke loudly, so that Ratchet could hear him over the cascading waterfall, "There should be an entrance, slightly elevated above the floor. Follow it through to the passage marked with a water boiler, then turn to the left and follow the tunnel through."

"Rodger," The simple response sounded, echoing throughout the chamber, before Ratchet followed the directions without complaint.

* * *

At the juncture of the water boiler, Ratchet and Clank's quest was ceased by cries for help, originating down one of the out-of-the-way tunnels. Taking into account curiosity, general compassion and the likelihood of information to be gained, the duo decided without words to check out this mysterious plea. It brought them to one of the dead ends Clank had foreseen; instead of the the expected abandoned mining equipment, though, this abandoned tunnel housed dozens of men and women, some wailing pathetically while others seemed to be in shock or impassive to the situation. Most huddled up together near the rear of the cage, depending on the collective energy of their cell mates to survive the cold weather. Several laid still on the opposite side of the cage.

Upon seeing the duo approaching, several of them started calling excitedly while others observed them with a certain level of skepticism. And, really, who could blame them? Not Clank, who knew about Blargian interrogation techniques and understood just how damaging they could be. Not Ratchet, who had seen enough torment in his young life to recognize terror when he saw it. Neither spoke a single word as Ratchet moved in and pulled the lever that opened the cage door. While some flocked out and praised their saviors, others hung back cautiously, uncertain as to what they should make of the duo. Slowly, but surely, they crept forward, escaping their confines at a comfortable rate.

The ones outside the cage showered the two with thanks. Ratchet, unused to crowds, simply tried to keep his distance and smiled uncertainly at their gratitude. Clank took the opportunity to ask questions about the facility and its Blargian occupants. How well were they fortified? How many of the facilities did they have access to? How long ago did Supreme Executive Chairman Drek leave? None of them had any answers, but they did seem determined to grant their saviors some reward in return for their services. Ratchet, before too long, was loaded with bolts he never asked for. He couldn't even tell which of the group had contributed, and they refused to take their money back. So, somewhat reluctantly, he allowed the money to fall into his wallet: a whole two hundred bolts.

Clank got a slightly different reward.

"Well, hi there!" Greeted a Solanian woman in blemished, burnt overalls. She was covered in bruises and dirt, like everyone else in the cage, but unlike the others seemed unfazed by the Blargian menace. To Clank, anyways. But Ratchet had seen other people with impossibly big smiles; people trying to cope with a terrible world by wearing a big, fat smile and making a huge joke out of everything. From what he saw, it only worked in the short term.

Giving the woman a friendly wave, Clank kept his response simplistic, "Hello, madam."

"Aren't you just the cutest little thing?" She cooed, then turned to Ratchet with her big grin unwavering, "You're sure lucky to have such an adorable little friend," Ratchet pondered this. Lucky? He could say with certainty that life had been... different since the arrival of the little robot, but that wasn't entirely in a positive sense. How many times had he nearly died since joining up with the 'bot? Unable to come to an answer, he simply shrugged. The woman then turned back to Clank, disregarding Ratchet completely, "Aw, so adorable! How 'bout I give you an upgrade as a reward? It's a hydraulic-neutral jet engine that'll allow you to travel underwater!" She giggled, "I came up with it myself."

Ratchet, leaning against the back wall of the cavern with his arms crossed, gave a smirk as he asked, "And, let me guess, you call it the 'hydropack'?"

"Of course not!" The woman scoffed, surprising both Ratchet and Clank a bit, "Not even my idiotic brothers would come up with a name that stupid! And they coined the term 'robo shack'!" She gave a gentle tug at Clank's arm, testing the durability, before moving to grasp a neglected wrench lying on a nearby table and started to pull him apart. Midway, she giggled, "Why, you already have an engine! This'll be cake!"

A pair of analytical Lombax eyes followed every movement of the woman's hands, mapping them to memory. Software had never been his foray, but hardware was his bread and butter. The more he knew, the better. So engrossed was he in the process that he did not notice the approach of a man until he spoke aloud to Ratchet, startling the Lombax. A quick chuckle, then they quickly discussed the fate of the newly freed prisoners. It seemed there was a tunnel that lead to emergency escape ships higher up the mountains. He and Clank were invited to come along, of course, but Ratchet declined. Anywhere he could get a hint as to where the galaxy's resident super-zero was residing was a place Ratchet needed to be.

"Very well," The man sighed, sounding quite exasperated, "I suppose I should be grateful that the two of you came this way at all. There are so many passageways... isn't the underwater one faster?" The man had turned to direct this question at one of his cohorts, but it still caught Ratchet's attention. There had been a faster way? Then why hadn't Clank lead them down that road? They were kind of on a time constraint here! Unless...

Ratchet looked back at the robot, who was working with the female mechanic to adjust the fins that had taken the place of his arms. There was a subtle smile lighting his face, compounded with a light squint of his optical lids to express a joyous emotion. Excuses and rebuttals kept running through his head, trying to keep the seed of doubt alive, but it was virtually useless; there was no logical reason as to why Clank would sacrifice efficiency just to keep them out of the water. All he could do was stare. Stare and wonder whether or not Clank was right when he had stated that he did care... No! The Lombax shook his head. He couldn't afford to muse about something so... so... implausible. He had to keep focused!

Having gotten his upgrade in its entirety, Clank approached Ratchet and watched his shifting expressions with interest. Although within the Lombax's line of view, he appeared to be unnoticed by his companion, who seemed to be busy trying to process something. Hesitantly, the robot pulled on Ratchet's pant leg, causing the Lombax in question to gaze down at him questioningly and, surprisingly, without malcontent.

"It appears that we are finished in this area," He reported, then activated his map and routed the rest of the way, "There is a ladder down the tunnel directly to the northeast that will lead us directly into the factory. Hopefully undetected."

There was little response from Ratchet; the Lombax simply stared at him with wide, unexpressive eyes. A feeling of warning crawled into Clank's core, and it took every instinct he had not to simply bolt under the judgmental gaze. Eventually, Ratchet shrugged, muttering softly to the affirmative, and tentatively offered his hand to the robot. He kept a sharp, vigilant look on Clank's eyes; never wavering until Clank was out of sight, safely settled on Ratchet's back.

* * *

At the top of the ladder there existed a manhole. Neither Ratchet nor Clank could tell what was on the other side of it. Ratchet, a tad paranoid, imagined a large, open room full of mindless Blargian soldiers ready to attack them with harsh, violent weapons. Clank's guess was a bit more grounded in reality; largely due to his internal map of the factory. He knew that the manhole opened up into a storage closet, which lead into the room just beside the command center. The amount of guards, though, was sure to be high. The Blarg didn't mess around, after all.

There was a heartbeat, a moment of pause, before Ratchet finally burst through the manhole in a moment of surprise for Clank. His blaster was at ready, pointed around the room in a paranoid fashion before its wielder ultimately realized that they were what was nothing more than an ordinary storage closet, complete with a broom and bucket. It was actually a bit embarrassing. Somewhat slowly, he lowered the pistol back into its make-shift holster on his belt.

It was then that they moved towards the door, each movement cautious. Again, Clank had the advantage, but this time Ratchet played it more on the careful side; he sidled up to the side of the door, peering through the keyhole and under the doorway before slowly opening it to peer at the entrance to the control room on the other side of the hallway.

To both of their surprise, it was unguarded.

"I... do not understand," Clank spoke as Ratchet yanked open the door upon his request. They had not even bothered to lock up! "The Blarg would never be this careless about such an important operation unless-" His eyes widened in that moment, and he released himself from Ratchet's harness and raced to the window, only to confirm the worst of his suspicions: the Blargian ship was armed with the Planet Buster Maximus, and it was off to destroy some helpless, defenseless planet that would never even know of the impending doom before it impacted.

Ratchet watched the crestfallen face of the robot as it morphed. The shock, the terror, the fear... such real emotions. And all of them coming from the most unlikely of sources: the emotionless little robot who, barely more than a week ago, didn't even know the difference between laughing and coughing. And now... now he showed more emotion than Ratchet had ever seen directed at anyone. Grief, anger, frustration, sadness... sacrifice. Empathy was a funny thing; it showed you sides of things you never would have even considered when alone. It made the turmoil of others very much your own. It could overcome even the deepest of loathings and spur otherwise lethargic lifeforms to action.

A quick scan of the surrounding area revealed a turret on the balcony of the control room and, without awaiting a response, Ratchet raced off, leaving Clank with only simple instructions, "Do what you can to slow down that ship. Hack it, send it spam, I don't care. Oh, and try to disable that bomb while you're at it."

Before Clank could ask what any of that meant, Ratchet reached the turret and started to take aim. It was at that moment that Clank realized, with a hint of shock, that Ratchet fully intended to help him out on this one. Without complaint. Hastily, he showed his gratitude by doing what Ratchet asked of him; he devoted the majority of his resources to disabling the bomb while the rest invaded the ship. Cyber warfare was vastly intensive. It could be as simple as flipping a coin in some cases and, in others, be as complex and varied as a fair game of chess. Nonetheless, Clank had more than the required resources to engage the AI of a battleship in full-force cybernetic combat. Of course, this was probably made significantly easier by Ratchet's efforts.

The Lombax had taken up the job of marksman, aiming his turret carefully so that he could unleash its power full blast on the warship. The directions from Batalia zoomed into his head and, although unsure of their relevance, Ratchet followed them dutifully. Keep your feet firm, double check your aim and, for the love of all that was good and holy, do NOT let your turret overheat. These laws reigned supreme in Ratchet's mind as he opened fire on the ship.

Of course, unlike the clueless fighters, this monstrosity was staffed with Blarg smart enough to recognize that they were under attack and respond accordingly. Turrets fired at him in quick succession and, to add to their height advantage, the ship had multiple gunners who had the sense to fire at Ratchet all together as opposed to one at a time. Turning rapidly and firing at the live ammunition to knock it off its path was all Ratchet could do to defend himself.

Noticing this quickly, Clank adjusted his attacks accordingly; the giant battleship had been halted, so he could focus efforts on screwing with their fighting systems. The ship's AI – a Blargian program only barely worthy of the title – fought back, even harder than before, to keep him out of their hair. But it was of little use; Clank had the sense to attack it in the real world by overloading a conduit near its AI core, resulting in some physical damage that translated to the digital world. It howled in rage – or rather, the cybernetic equivalent of a howl – and the real, living robot attacked it without remorse.

The turret on the left-most side of the ship overheated and exploded. Ratchet quickly took advantage of the event – save for a quick glance at his own heat measuring unit – by mercilessly shooting at the perceived weak points in the structure. With the lack of defenses and hard-hitting strategic strikes, the left side of the ship soon erupted into flames.

And so the pattern continued.

As it did, the only true difference was the AI attacking them. Its efforts increased after the explosion, as if suddenly recognizing how big of a threat one measly robot could be. But by the time the center of the ship had blown up, it simply became pathetic, putting up only a token effort. There was a pause in the combat, for a startling moment in time, where the AI reached out directly to Clank's mind, taking him by surprise.

_Please... _it begged pathetically, _Save me, brother... let me into your mind..._

For a split moment, Clank considered letting it, before recalling the true nature of Blargian machinery. All of the ones who weren't mindless drones were programmed for betrayal; he could not trust a single one of them. So he increased the protection in his mind, fearful of the information it might obtain. If it knew the truth... then his entire mission would be in jeopardy. He could not risk that. Not with so much on the line.

The denial quickly revealed the true colors of the artificial intelligence. It roared and howled in rage, mercilessly sending viruses and malware across the natural connections at such a rate that a typical firewall was not enough to sustain them. Thankfully, the additional protection Clank had thrown up had caught these unwanted programs and delete them promptly. As it died, when the ship finally went down, it sent one final message to Clank.

_Do not think... I will forget... this... b-brother..._

And then it died. Clank could not bring himself to feel sorrow for the loss of his so-called sibling. It was not even a true AI; it didn't bother to think for itself. Mentally shaking his head at it, he turned to watch Ratchet reenter the room, excitement coming off of his features. Clearly, the victory had impressed upon him a sense of pride. Seeing as this was not a common expression on the Lombax, Clank decided to let him savor the victory and began scrolling through the computer as Ratchet talked excitedly about their victory. He probably wasn't even aware of the full extent of Clank's help, but then again, Clank did not really see the point in correcting him. Details, details...

A relatively new message within the computer caught his attention. He spared a moment to direct Ratchet's attention to the central screen and displayed it. The message read:

_To Blarg Militia Squad #383_

_Greetings! Executive Chairman Drek, here. After your 'deliver the bomb' mission I have a new task for you. Please report to the moon base above Planet Oltanis for your assignment. Here's a hint: It involves merciless attacks on the inhabitants of a planet without a military! I figured you guys would need a cool down after the single most important mission in Blargian history, so I've made this one simple for you._

_-With love and adoration, Supreme Executive Chairman Drek_

Clank turned to Ratchet, "We have to get to that moon base!"

"Yeah!" The Lombax sharply agreed, surprising the robot; he was surprised more when Ratchet added, "If Drek's assigning missions there, then somebody's gotta know where Qwark is!"

It was high time they addressed this, actually. Clank had just never had the opportunity until now... no, that wasn't quite right. He had plenty of opportunity. He just hadn't wanted to, especially after the disastrous results of the last intervention. But now he had little choice. So, with a saddened expression, he turned to Ratchet and spoke, "I know you want revenge on Qwark, Ratchet, but consider it this way: if the Blargian problem was a plant, then Qwark would be a leaf. Big, green and in the way, but not the true cause of the problem. Stopping him may delay the Blarg, but to gain an effective solution we must cut away the roots: Chairman Drek."

"I don't expect you to understand," Ratchet turned away, so that Clank couldn't see his forlorn expression, "but this is something I gotta do and I'll only warn you once," he turned to Clank, putting on an expression of anger, "Don't get in my way. We both know you'll regret it."

They were back to square one, for at least a while. Not a single emotion coming from Ratchet's eyes made the least bit of sense to the logical, goal-driven robot. The empathy was all gone from the Lombax side as well. Whereas he saw a betrayal that needed to be punished, Clank saw only an obstacle they didn't necessarily have to pass. It was the principle of the thing! But how could he expect someone like Clank to get it, anyways?

Whereas connecting emotionally made even the greatest of obstacles surmountable, an inability to do so could create monstrous ones.

An awkward silence passed – awkward to Clank, not Ratchet – before the robot himself spoke up, "There are snow vehicles on the ground level of the facility. Securing one will provide a simplistic trip back to the ship. Ready to go?"

"...yeah. Let's get the hell off of this frozen iceball."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI' msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'ms orryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msor ryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI' msorryI'msorryI'msorry(Gasp)I'msorryI'msorryI'msor ryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI' msorry!

There, I apologized fifty times for the late chapter. And here's fifty-one: I am really, REALLY sorry. There was a lot of issues that delayed the chapter, including a virus and writer's block. Doesn't help that, in my opinion, this is the most boring and dull of all the chapters. It might just win worst chapter but, again, I'll withhold judgment until the story is done.

What did I do good on?: Clank sections. My innate, if not completely accidental, connection with the character has finally paid off!

What did I fail on?: Um... everything. This took so long to write and it was kind of boring to do so.

Random Question for Reviewers: What would YOU do for a Klondike bar?


	16. Gemlik Base: Revenge

_Planet Buster Maximus_

_Max Power Output: 1.5x10^17 megatons_

_Current Power Output: None_

_AI Status: Inactive_

_Connection: Offline_

_Attempt #084 to reconnect has failed._

_Retry?_

Disgusted, the Blargian leader pushed himself away from the console. Every attempt to reconnect with the AI or resume the reactions that had created such great energy within the Planet Buster Maximus had failed miserably. There was no response from the transport team. And, worse of all, security cameras caught those two miserable miscreants at the scene of the crime. Wanted Criminals number 647 and 648. B5429671 (known to his organic partner-in-crime as 'Clank') and Ratchet. A robot of his own making and a freakin' Lombax, of all things. Dammit, he'd thought those blasted cats were extinct...

Regardless, they had both proved themselves to be nuisances in their own special ways. So long as they were such big threats to his mission, they had to be eliminated, no matter the costs. The risk of leaving them alive was simply too great. And speaking of risks...

As if on que, Captain Qwark himself entered the room, looking a tad bit exhausted. Of course, the Chairman had heard that new recruits could be quite draining on one's body and soul but, being the Chairman, he'd never had to personally deal with them, so he'd never known. Judging from the Captain's sweaty form, though, he decided to delay all visits to educational centers and training facilities until further notice.

"Greetings, Captain," Chairman Drek spoke, without turning from his screen, "I'm going to assume, for the sake of your position with my people, that you watched the video I sent along with your summons?" If he had not, the Executive noted, then he had a better poker face than the leader had realized. Qwark nodded quickly, and the Chairman motioned for Qwark to follow as he walked, "Then you understand why I have summoned you here. Our enemies are en route to the base on Gemlik," He neglected to mention that one of them was searching, specifically, for Qwark. If he had watched the video, then he already knew and if he had not, then... it was Drek's little surprise, "and you are being transferred there to confront them. That is why I am offering you-"

The door they had stopped in front of opened.

"-this!"

The Captain gasped, clearly amazed. However, just as the Chairman expected, he completely took it the wrong way, "You want me to do a photo-op by your shiny new shuttle? An EXCELLENT idea, sir! Top notch, just like everything else you've done."

Another reason to hate Qwark – the man had a bad habit of brown-nosing.

"Numbskull," The Chairman snapped, more out of a sudden need to insult the man than any genuine anger, "No, this is your transport to the Gemlik Moon Base, where you will confront those two troublemakers who've sent our efficiency back sixty-seven percent!" When Qwark continued to stare at him mindlessly, Drek bit back another insult and reminded him harshly, "Ratchet and Clank? The two you duped in Blackwater City? The two on the wanted posters plastered all over the ship?!"

Qwark nodded, muttering, "Right, right," as he did so. Patience was something the strategic leader of the Blarg had plenty of. Qwark had the special power to wear it thin, even after keeping calm through the rough and gruff politics of modern Solana, "But... ah... I'm..."

"Washed up? Ill-suited for ground combat? Haven't fought a single battle since Doctor Nefarious was declared officially deceased years ago?" Smirking darkly, the commander-in-chief nodded, "Yes, I understand all that. That's why I'm loaning you one of my personal customized fighters. You can still fly, right?" With the consenting nod from Qwark, the Executive Chairman took his leave, but not before one final threat – just a little incentive, really, "and if you screw THIS up, the endorsement deal is OFF!"

A loud gasp echoed through the hanger, "Y-you wouldn't!"

"I would. If I were you, I'd do my homework on my enemies. You'll need all the help you can get..." With that final piece of advice, the Chairman walked away, not bothering to watch as, behind him, Qwark was sent spiralling to some distant corner of the solar system. Discreetly, under his breath, he sent a message forth to his back-up team: get those generators from Oltanis. And, as an added bonus for taking a job that no one else seemed to want, the Chairman told them he would 'overlook' the destruction of anything not related to the generators.

So long as they succeeded in their mission, let them have their fun. After all, things would only get more hectic from here.

* * *

"_Alert: Your ship's registry does not have the required security clearance for landing. Please submit the security code in the next sixty seconds or your vehicle will be vaporized."_

Ratchet leaned on the dashboard, eyes furrowed as he examined the space station from afar, "Do the Blarg do that for all their facilities?"

"Only the ones that are considered important to Blargian military or economic gains. So... most of them," The robot in the co-pilot seat answered, entering the pass code through the wireless command computer used to automatically designate who was allowed to land on the base.

"_Error: Passcode invalid. Prepare to be decimated."_

Ratchet's eyes widened, "Say what-?"

Unfortunately, whatever he was going to say was forever lost to the deepest recesses of the collective unconscious, as their ship was placed under violent, merciless assault. Ratchet reached for the controls, but by this point it was mute. The left engine had been completely decimated. The afterburners were toast, ruining any chance of a quick escape. The stabilizers were on the fritz. They were going down, and going down fast. Their only hope was for somebody to redirect their ascent, and it certainly wasn't going to be Ratchet. The oxygen-recycling system had also been damaged, and Ratchet, being an organic life form, was holding his breath and searching the cockpit desperately for the O2 mask. It was up to Clank to grab the steering mechanism and violently yanked the out-of-control ship towards a relatively stable-looking landing pad. Compared to Novalis... or Veldin, for that matter, this crash was much smoother. There was barely any (more) damage done to the vehicle, which still made it incapable of flight on its own. Thankfully, Ratchet was breathing now. The O2 mask was strapped to his face and he was taking deep, long breaths of delicious air.

As soon as he was able to talk, his frustration and confusion was directed towards Clank, "What the hell happened? What did you do?"

"It appears that the Blargian have changed their codes. Either that or this particular facility uses different ones. No matter the circumstance, one thing is certain: we will not be leaving the same way we came in."

"That's apparent," Agreed the Lombax, still with a sour note to his voice. He walked forward, deeper into the facility, when suddenly his ears perked up at the sound of an all-too familiar voice. It was deep, overconfident and evoked every feeling of loathing and wrath that existed in the short form of the young Lombax.

"Greetings!" The voice boomed, "And welcome to the Gemlik Moon Base! I am your benevolent and loving host: Captain Cornelius Leslie Qwark! It is a glorious day at eighty-seven degrees celsius, an usually high day for the moons of Oltanis, and it appears we have guests! Everybody, give it up for our visitors: Ratchet and Clank!"

At this point, Clank noticed a severe change in Ratchet's carefree attitude. His ears were bent down, stiff with stress. Their was rage in his narrowed eyes, but overwhelming that was a peculiar gleam. His hand was coiled around his gun, and his teeth were gritted. He was... shaking.

There was something about this that tugged at Clank's core. But of all of these things, he was surprised to find that it was the shaking that got to him most. Shaking was a common sign of exhaustion, anxiety and adrenaline. Given the current circumstances, exhaustion was unlikely, as he had slept most of the trip back to the ship; adrenaline, despite the panic of facing Qwark again, was also unlikely. Therefore, it must have been anxiety: a state of distress and unease caused by danger or misfortune... or stress on the psyche. Such stress could cause lasting psychological damage, which in turn could cripple their mission. And Ratchet's future.

It was decided.

"Ratchet-" The robot spoke.

He was interrupted by a sharp, angry glance from Ratchet, "What?"

"..." For a moment, he could not tear his eyes away from Ratchet, "If my maps of this station are correct, Qwark should be in the command tower on the opposite side of the facility. I have already mapped a safe, quick route to him."

Genuine surprise showed on the Lombax's features at Clank's words. He blinked once, twice, then nodded, pressing his lips into a thin frown, "Alright. Lead the way, then."

* * *

As reluctant as Ratchet was to admit it, having Clank along was really coming in handy. Not only did he come with a built-in map, but also an inborn sensor to locate and assist in the elimination of enemy targets. It seemed that the Blargian technicians on this station were far smarter than the ones on Orxon. Instead of weak, circuit dependant laser gates, these ones were connected directly to control towers. Therefore, opening one was impossible without damaging the tower. Luckily, a reduction of stupidity did not necessarily mean the absence of it. All it took was a pair of pliers to black out the tower and the gate.

Through blinding rage, though, a few questions popped up. How did Clank have the maps of supposedly secure Blargian military stations when they'd had navigation troubles on Hoven and Metropolis? Where did Clank get this intel? If he had been in a more... placid condition, then he might have thought to ask Clank a couple questions about this. But his thoughts were focused almost completely on Captain Qwark. Any questions about Clank's vast array of knowledge were buried underneath the scorn that had, for so long, shielded the young Lombax.

He only had a slight warning before the turret opened fire. Clank had called out to him and he reacted on instinct, dodging to one side as the stream of bullets came closer. As he continued onward, he ran in a serpentine motion, back and forth, jumping over the stream of bullets anytime the two would meet. He came dangerously close to getting hit at one point – a bullet nearly grazed his arm, and would have had he not pulled it out of the way when he realized that he was in the line of fire. Clank stayed relatively calm throughout the sequence, he couldn't help but notice, and for that he was both annoyed and grateful.

As they came upon the shielded turret, Ratchet successfully dove behind its cover, revealing the shooter to be little more than a terrified Blargian. He cowered upon seeing Ratchet, trying mutely to pull his gun from the side of the wall so he could defend itself. It was pathetic – the thing was so obviously designed to stay inside of the wall. So he put the stupid Blarg out of his misery, not even blinking as the shot passed through his chest and caused him to collapse to the ground. Death was instantaneous.

Clank still said nothing.

He followed the path that had been outlined for him. According to the map, another turret laid in wait behind what the registry told them was a Gadgetron X74 locking device. The Trespasser was unloaded and it activated automatically. On his back, he could only barely feel Clank straighten out, muttering as he integrated his systems with the device.

"Accessing... data received. Lock system recognized. Beginning hacking procedures..." The device's long claw began twisting and turning, and Ratchet imagined for a moment what it must have been like for Clank, to be able to interface with this. Was it like a game? A puzzle? A series of codes? Before he could ask, though, Clank announced, "Hacking procedures complete," and Ratchet had to quickly duck to the side as another stream of bullets came flying at them. This time, surpassing it was far easier; the turrets didn't have total three-dimensional spin, and thus it was a piece of cake to surpass with the help of nearby cover. This Blargian went down easy as well.

The next room had a few more guards in it: one was manning a turret while the others shot at him. Instead of wasting ammo taking all of them out, Ratchet grinned darkly and jumped on the head of one of the guards, slamming the butt of his blaster into his forehead. He didn't see the stream of bullets coming until it was far too late. This horrible scene distracted the gunner long enough for Ratchet to sneak behind him and deliver one shot to his back. From there, it was a matter of hitting the other soldiers as they cluelessly ran towards the Lombax, intent on stopping them. Only to, of course, get stopped themselves.

"Ratchet," The familiar voice of the robot sounded behind him. Clank had hopped off of the harness and was now staring at him with a look of apprehension, "While I can appreciate your versatility in combat, would it be too much to ask you not to smile like that?"

The grin Ratchet hadn't known was on his face promptly fell. Unable to think of any direct response, Ratchet muttered, "Killjoy," and walked off. Albeit slightly reluctant, the robot followed.

* * *

Perhaps indulging Ratchet's desire for revenge had not been such a good idea. Since setting foot on this station, determined to make Qwark pay for his betrayal, Ratchet had been acting... different. His combat skills had appeared to improve, which was good. But accompanying this sudden ability was an anger and ferocity that had never truly been present before. He had seen traces of it, granted, when the Lombax had used turrets or ships to battle opponents, but it had been unleashed in full force when the sound of Qwark's voice had reached Ratchet's ears.

This blood lust was not something that Clank was used to from Ratchet. He tried his hardest not to say anything – so long as they kept moving forward, it did not quite matter what Ratchet was thinking, right? But something about that feral grin was too much. Ratchet seemed displeased by Clank's comment, but did not seem quite so... happy about mowing down their Blargian enemies. Personally, Clank enjoyed this a little more. He was more on his toes, less easy to take by surprise than if this were simply some sort of game.

After discovering that Qwark had cut off the path that he had originally intended for them to take (to Ratchet's displeasure), Clank calculated an alternate route that lead inside the facility. It felt a little bit as if they were being... forced down this path, and Clank could quickly see why. They were heading through the fuel processing chambers, filled with plasma that fluctuated as used fuel was pumped in and the exhaust port allowed for it to be properly disposed of. As Ratchet commented, it looked almost as if the glowing green plasma was breathing.

There was no mistaking the shared annoyance they felt when they realized that the only way through the fuel stores was to hop across maintainance platforms raised through the tanks. Ratchet could make quite a few of the jumps on his own, but for the ones he could not, Clank found no problem in using his thruster pack to bring them that extra few centicubits that neither could make on their own. If Ratchet had a problem with his help, the Lombax never stated it.

Apparently, sending them through the most dangerous part of the facility was not a satisfactory enough death sentence for Qwark. Also in their path were four or five Blargian elites, each one brandishing plasma based shotguns. It was a combination of things that secured their victory in that battle. The first was that, while the Blarg were lethal shots, to the point of graving Ratchet's arm, they had pathetic amounts of common sense. One of them ran towards Ratchet, whom neatly sidestepped the soldier and gave him a hard shove. There was a long scream, and then it ended with a splash and the ominous sound of melting flesh that had Ratchet cringing against his back.

The other soldiers simply gaped at them, before charging forward in a blind rage, shooting wildly. It was only Ratchet's quick thinking, shooting a coolant-carrying pipe to create a shield of mist, that allowed them to escape the conflict mostly untouched. And emergency nanotech stored nearby took care of the wounds.

It took a little longer for the constant thumping against his back to go down, this time.

As they kept moving, walking along a metallic maintainance rail whilst orange plasma, which was recyclable, flowed below them, a dark question popped into his mind. When Ratchet was finished with Qwark, what would happen? He would have no reason to continue working with Clank, having accomplished his revenge.

Would that mean that the robot would have to continue his quest on his own? A chill of fear came at the thought. Much as he did not like to confess it, facing the Blarg alone in combat was an almost impossible feat for someone like him. And it was not like Ratchet needed to accompany him, either. He had a hoverboarding contract waiting for him and a set of skills that would be valuable in multiple fields.

He would like to believe that Ratchet would voluntarily help him save the galaxy, but there was no evidence that he would follow through with such things. They had teamed up in the first place because he needed a ship and Ratchet needed a part. Later, they had simply stuck together because Ratchet needed to get to Qwark, and Clank provided the most convenient way to get there. But now... now there was no telling what Ratchet would do.

"Clank, you ready?"

The robot blinked, automatically answering, "Of course," While simultaneously scanning the area around them. There was green plasma – used fuel – flowing beneath them. This happened barely a second before Ratchet dove across the pit, towards a refueling platform on the other side. As soon as Clank understood what his intention was, he activated his thruster pack to carry them across smoothly. But, almost immediately, he realized they were not going to make it. The trajectory was all wrong. They would get close, but would not actually reach the other side in time.

Ratchet noticed this, as well. He stretched himself out, extending his arm out and only narrowly managing to grab the edge. There was a loud gasp, but before Clank could investigate Ratchet pulled them up quickly, flopping on his stomach and breathing deeply for a second before picking himself up to sit. Clank removed himself from the bolt harness and moved around to watch as Ratchet nursed his foot. His burnt foot.

The pieces pulled themselves together in his mind. Cautiously, Clank took a few steps forward and examined the wound more closely. The fur was gone from the wounded segment, and the skin underneath was bloated and blotchy. Ratchet did not say anything – he must not have suspected Clank's unassuming part in this wound. He did, however, make the mistake of attempting to stand and, before Clank could warn him, he went down, gasping loudly.

"Well," He spoke, turning his attention to Clank, "That's just great. There's no way I'm going anywhere like this," He then looked up at Clank, his breathing deep and his ears bent, "You mind going out to find some nanotech?"

All Clank could do was nod his head in consent. Ratchet – actually, all organics he had met, for that matter – had strange notions of things like 'guilt' and 'morality'. They were questionable, at best, and downright nonexistent, at worse. And yet, oddly enough, there was this fascination with the concept that had emerged. How these living beings could grow and change. It was... inspiring.

Thankfully, nanotech was stored everywhere around here. It was common for organics to be injured in areas like this, he supposed. So obtaining that stuff was not complicated in the slightest. It was at this point that Clank made note of the nearby elevator. It would raise them into the hanger and, not far from said hanger, the control tower where Qwark was directing the Blargian troops. When he returned to Ratchet, he was wearing a grin. Finally, this pointless quest for revenge was almost over.

Almost.

* * *

There it was. The control tower.

Ratchet and Clank approached it at a steady speed. Ratchet glared ahead of himself in determination while Clank, sitting stoically on his back, just watching out for approaching enemies. Both of them realized that a ship was hidden away nearby; Ratchet heard the churning engines and Clank could sense the power fluctuations as the ship activated. Quickly, the Lombax moved to look at the source of the engine's roar and found, standing not far, was Captain Qwark himself.

"Greetings, Ratchet," The Captain grinned darkly, "How goes the hero business? Oh, still attached to your gullible metal backpack, it seems," He noted as Clank dropped from Ratchet's back and moved to stand next to Ratchet.

The Lombax growled in response, "Shut up!" He shouted, more likely out of malice than any defense of his robot companion.

"Oh, come now," The Captain cooed in a mock-sweet voice, "I mean, we're all pals here, right? So," He continued, ignoring, or perhaps even gaining inspiration from, the growing anger on the Lombax's face, "let's just do what friends do and relax. Take a breather. Discuss your unconditional surrender..."

"I told you to shut up!" Snapped Ratchet, anger evident on his face.

Qwark 'tsked' in response, as if he were expressing minor disappointment in Ratchet's response, "Now, now, dearest Ratchet. Is that any way to talk to your benevolent savior? I wouldn't mind talking Drek into giving you a job as a... water boy or something. We'll even erase your criminal record."

The robot standing to Ratchet's side looked back to him with a sort of amazement. Ratchet? A criminal? Certainly he could be an unsympathetic pain at times, but the robot could just not see any ill-will within the Lombax. Without thinking, he blurted out, "You have a criminal record?" And almost immediately regretted it upon registering the shocked, horrified face that resulted.

And the Captain, apparently having realized the effect of mentioning this, continued talking, "Oh, he didn't tell you? It was... about a year ago, wasn't it?" He grinned devilishly, knowing exactly what he was talking about, "Now, I'm not one to gossip, but... well, let's just say it involved a theft..."

He did not get much farther than this. Ratchet's rage had reached a boiling point, and he reacted as any logical being would – he dove for Qwark, hands outstretched with the intent of murder. The 'superhero' merely took a simple step backwards to avoid the hands outstretched towards him, back onto his ship, as Ratchet fell to the ground, growling in anger. Laughing, Qwark flew off into the distance with a simple taunt: come get me, hero. If you can.

Ratchet took the bait, turning to Clank and sharply asking, "Where can I find a ship?"

The robot faltered for a moment, still shocked at the revelation of Ratchet's criminal record, and responded hesitantly, "There are fighter jets within the garage-"

"Thanks," Ratchet marched off, not even waiting for a reply. At least, not until Clank called after him. In part because he knew, without his aid, Ratchet's quest for vengance would fail. But also because he found himself genuinely worried for Ratchet's mental state. It appeared that he went to... dark places when Qwark was around, and that response about his previous crimes suggested that Ratchet felt a sensitive personal connection to it, which certainly did not help matters.

Clank made the decision, and called out to the Lombax, who halted long enough to look back at him with an expression of guarded apprehension, "You will, ah, need my help on this one. I do not think the fighters can be activated without a robotic ignition system," Which was, technically, the truth. But they could have been upgraded since then. There was no way of knowing.

Ratchet was hesitant for moment, but eventually nodded in consent, "Alright. C'mon. We have work to do."

* * *

Upon taking off, the first thing he noticed was Qwark's ship flying around, taunting them, "Well, look who finally decided to show up. Are you ready, kitten?"

Ratchet growled – he was more than used to stupid nicknames referring to his appearance, but coming from Qwark it just upped his frustration, "Bring it on, old man!"

"Hah! We'll see about that!" And, promptly, the ship's rear facing turrets opened fire upon the much smaller fighter. Ratchet forced his ship to the side in order to dodge the oncoming bullets. From his position in the copilot's seat, Clank simply observed, waiting for the moment when his help would be needed. He was not sure when or where he could come into play, still being relatively unfamiliar with combat, but... how do you explain it? That distinctive feeling that you are needed, even if you did not want to be needed.

It quickly became apparent that, at least at one point, Qwark had the skills that made him famous. He was a skilled pilot, much better than the untrained Blargians they had battled previously. While Ratchet could fire at him, his shield was strong, clearly up to their highest levels. Ratchet retaliated by drawing strength from non-critical systems, such as the radio, to the shields and weapons. While, admittedly impressive for someone who hadn't been trained, it was quickly becoming clear tht Ratchet was no expert.

It didn't help at all that Qwark continuously taunted them with thinly veiled insults as to Ratchet's skills. Each one got strong emotional response from Ratchet – one in particular, about never truly thinking that Ratchet was all that good as either a mechanic or a hero – set the Lombax as close to the edge as he could get, making his grip on the steering mechanism tighten significantly.

If there was ever a time to intervene, it was now.

"Ratchet," the robot spoke, solemnly, "I believe that it would be a good idea to get Qwark on the defensive. Force into our position."

Ratchet gave him this look that suggested he was an idiot, but then nodded reluctantly, "Any ideas?"

Clank looked out the window, examining Qwark's ship. It was a well-designed monstrosity, with fierce, angry guns and a cybernetic shield with an atrocious energy draw. In a battle of attrition, such as theirs, it would win, but would not last a minute if it came across a more physical obstacle, such as an asteroid. Quickly, his scans brought to his attention a nearby asteroid field. Yes... if they timed it just right...

"We will need to herd Qwark into that asteroid field," He spoke.

Ratchet took an apprehensive look at the same asteroid field Clank had been targeting, then directed an unsure glance to the robot, "Are you sure about this?"

"Our ship is smaller and handles turns better than that of our enemy. It will work," Although still unconfident, Ratchet took his chance, approaching the ship and flying over it, unleashing several shots onto the hood. It certainly caught Qwark's attention, causing the Captain to shout at him that it was 'rude' to attempt such a sneaky attack, which almost got Ratchet mad enough to turn around and attack directly. Almost. But as soon as Clank saw his hands twitched, the robot reminded him, not unkindly, that their destination was the asteroid field.

"I-I know that!" He snapped, but his hands snapped back into the correct position and Clank tried not to smile.

As expected, Qwark followed them into the asteroid field, staying clear on their toes as they passed the first few large rocks. Their ship had little trouble dodging the large rocks, but Qwark's hit it as he attempted to follow them, wings being scraped as he passed the asteroids by. One grazed the top of his vehicle and that seemed to cause some damage, because Qwark almost immediately turned around and began shooting his way out of the maze of rocks.

This displeased Ratchet.

"He's getting away!" The Lombax snarled, readying their ship for a u-turn – which would have resulted in a direct crash, had Clank not intervened, grabbing the steering mechanism and forcing them to pull up. Ratchet knocked him back, just in time to come up upon the largest of the floating rocks. Ratchet's reflexes were stunned, and it was only Clank's sharp shouting to turn left that prevented imminent doom. The robot then activated a three-dimensional scan, carefully guiding them out of the asteroid field with far more calmly relayed instructions. When the finally emerged, Ratchet was breathing heavily and, if Clank had been on his back, he no doubt would have felt that peculiar thumping.

Qwark was sitting still, waiting for his ship to repair itself, and it gave Ratchet the perfect shot. With a devilish grin, the Lombax approached Qwark's ship quickly, a missile prepped for launch, and then... strike. It hit, directly, against the top of the Captain's ship, and it immediately flew off, slow and steady. Oddly enough, the jump drive still worked, so he could have escaped at that moment. But, instead, he turned around and started firing back, all while spewing random insults at Ratchet, including repeated references to his arrest. But Ratchet was too caught up in his own ecstasy, the glee smothering out the insults. They continued firing and, at one point, Qwark's full shields went back up, only to go down rather quickly when a foolish Blargian decided to ram Ratchet head on, resulting in the Lombax shooting the ship into bits and one of the pieces striking the large crack in Qwark's ceiling. Needless to say, the shield stayed down.

At this point, Qwark tried some pathetic pleading. He claimed that he had actually always liked Ratchet, and that the Lombax had potential. But, after going down that road once, it was apparent that Ratchet had no plans to go down it again, merely meeting Qwark's sudden pleading with hard, determined eyes as he focused one final missile at the 'hero' before firing, causing the Captain to crash, pleading pathetically on the way down. At this sight, it was as if a weight was lifted off of Ratchet's shoulders. Whatever dark place Qwark had dragged him into had been all but forgotten, and leaving it in the past was apparently no problem for the teenager as he brought them in for the gentlest landing Clank had ever experienced.

"Haha!" The Lombax exclaimed joyfully, hopping out of the ship, "That was awesome!"

A little happier now that Ratchet was in better spirits – it was better than the anger he had directed towards the robot previously – Clank spoke up, "I must admit, your driving skills certainly have improved in since we left Veldin."

"Yeah, I did get pretty good," The Lombax preened under the praise, then did a surprising redirect, "'course, you did do your fair share. I mean, using asteroids to bust open his ship? That was just genius!"

He must have felt surprisingly generous after that victory of theirs. While honestly a little happy at the change in attitude, a haunting image came into his mind: a planet, busted open the same way Ratchet had busted open Qwark's ship. With that image in mind, he quickly changed the subject, "However, there is still the matter of stopping Drek!"

"Right, him," As suspected, a lack of target allowed for the Lombax to react lazily to the thought of Drek, "Well... whoa!" Ratchet's eyes bulged, and he immediately ran off, leaving Clank in the dust as he examined a black ship to the side. It was sleek, well-crafted and certainly faster than anything they had ever used before. Almost immediately, Clank was reminded of Ratchet's almost parental concern for their dinky little escort carrier on Metropolis, and was somewhat surprised that he seemed to be treating this far better ship exactly the same. It must have been a mechanic thing, he supposed, because while he understood the technicalities, there was no emotional reaction like that.

"This ship would most certainly catch Drek," Catching Ratchet's interested eye, Clank decided this was a now or never moment, and in a sly, suggestive tone, stated, "Of course, I would need a pilot for her..."

This sparked Ratchet's attention, "Well, if you're that desperate, I wouldn't mind getting a little closer to this beauty," His hand fell over the nose cone, examining it with the care of a liscensed professional. Clank, meanwhile, scanned the ship to determine exactly how fast it could go.

Very fast... but that was not the interesting part.

"It appears we have a message, sent for the actual owner of the ship," Bringing out his infobot, Clank forwarded the stream to it and began playback.

And there, before them, was the burning city of Gorda. It was in shambles, with its people running around aimlessly, being chased by Blargians, with senseless destruction in the background. How does one describe something as horrible as this?

"_This is Darla Gratch, reporting live from Gorda City. This once peaceful planet is being torn apart in an unprovoked attack and, after extensive research, we are certain that Supreme Executive Chairman Drek is behind this. Attempts to contact him – or anyone, actually – have been mute. Stay tuned, people of Oltanis, for possible updates. Darla Gratch, Channel 2 News."_

Ratchet stared awkwardly at the scene. It was hard to explain the expression... stunned or mystified, perhaps. But it was certain that he was not finding that scene very pleasant.

"As you had stated before," Clank spoke, attempting to break the ice, "It appears the people on this planet are... hosed."

It was a slight surprise when Ratchet whipped around to face him, not looking angry, exactly, but certainly unsettled, "Dammit, this isn't a joke, Clank!"

An almost selfish part of him desired to point out the hypocrisy of this line. But he refrained, and nodded, "I know. In fact, this is a lot worse than I expected... it seems Qwark is moving ahead with his plans ahead of schedule."

"Dammit," The Lombax repeated, "This... this is my fault..." He sunk to the ground, visibly distressed, "If we'd just gone after Drek, like you wanted, then maybe-!"

Clank stopped this right after that line – there was no truth in it, and they had not found any leads that led to Drek, anyways. All of their leads returned their attention to Qwark. Either way, they would have ended up here, "Please, Ratchet. It is Drek's fault, if anybody's. There is no reason to blame yourself. But," He pondered aloud, "If you truly feel guilty, then we are not too late to stop Drek's plans."

"You know what," The Lombax perked up, "You're right! We've got this new ship! We've taken out some of his bases! Heck, we beat Qwark! Nothing could stand in our path at this point!" He yanked open the ship's roofing and promptly set himself down in the pilot's seat, "C'mon! We've got an evil dictator to stop!"

Amazing. For all of Clank's fears and concerns, Ratchet spun around and did exactly what he had hoped the Lombax would do... and not because of a bribe or blackmail, like previously. No, he was doing so because this was the right thing, and Ratchet knew it. Something... pleasant swelled in his chest cavity, overwhelming his core and storage chamber. It made him want to smile brightly at the Lombax and perhaps thank him over and over again. Of course, Ratchet would not allow that second one, so a smile as he hopped into the co-pilot's seat would have to suffice.

It would be a long, long time before Clank learned to equate this feeling to 'pride'.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I'm sick again. :(

This seems to be happening a little too often for my liking. On the other hand, sick day! :D

So, the chapter... yeah, I dunno. I think it turned out okay; it wasn't as good as I thought it would be. I came up with an awesome version of the space battle between Ratchet and Qwark a few chapters ago, but lost that version to the virus you may recall as my primary excuse for last weeks delay. So you got this less cool version instead. Sorry.

So, next is Oltanis! The Ratchet-only chapter! And I've got some ideas for that one...

Also, don't hesitate to point out any typos. I think my spellcheck is on the fritz. I can spell out words like fahgrepraigheaipngea and it won't label them as wrong.

NOTE: This chapter has since been edited. I think I got most of the mistakes, but I am unsure.

What did I do good on?: The scene where Qwark baits Ratchet. I don't really think I need to explain why.

What did I fail on?: I wish I could've come up with more for this chapter. It doesn't seem long enough to me.

Random Question for Reviewers: What multiplayer games do you play with your friends?


	17. Oltanis: Fate

Sometimes, things don't turn out how you plan.

You can plot and conspire and scheme as much as you like, but there are some things that are simply beyond your control. There are things you will never accomplish, simply because you will never have the opportunity to. Where you are, when you are, who you are... these are things you simply cannot mediate yourself. They are predetermined randomly and, no matter how hard you try and achieve the destiny you desire, fortune and misfortune are the tools of fate, out of the reach of mortal hands.

_Pshew. _

Some events are like a lottery – pure randomness, pure luck. It could be good. It could be bad. It could change your life forever... or not. But in order for it to start, you must throw yourself into the pot.

_Clank. Clank. Clank._

Some are like a puppet show. The strings on your various limbs were twisted and pulled by people far out of your reach. They decide to murder, abandon, raise taxes... even something as indirect or impersonal as a smile could make or break someone else's day.

And some-

_BOOM._

-are like a lightning strike. Truly random. A one to two hundred eighty thousand odds. You don't know when. You don't know where. You only get minimal warning. A crash. A sudden strike. No outside influence; no karma. Just pure, undiscriminating, aimless chance. Sometimes it is pleasant.

"_Clank? CLANK!"_

And sometimes, it is not.

* * *

_ERROR: Critical System Failure_

_Initializing damage report..._

_Damage Report complete: 82.8474894% Functionality_

_Initializing reboot..._

When Clank woke up, he could not register anything but color.

Shapes? Textures? No, these things were taking their sweet time loading, so for the moment Clank could only recognize different colors. And sounds... words, spoken in a frenzy. They were acknowledged, but still processing through the jumble of other programs attempting to reboot. They made no sense; meant nothing. So, for the moment, he relied on what he did know.

...the colors presented to him were yellow and green. There were others – white, brown – but they were not as prevalent. Immediately, a search was launched. Green and yellow. Yellow and green. What did these colors mean for him? The first result, which was usually the most trustworthy, gave the image of a green-suited man with a blue and yellow symbol on his chest. Official Designation: Captain Qwark. A wave of terror hit the robot as results showed treason and attempted murder in the man's personal file. He had done quite a number to the mental state of his companion (further data unavailable) as well.

Through the sudden fear, Clank managed to croak out, "Captain... Qwark?"

There was a pause, and then a sound that registered to his newly synchronized auditory recognition software as a laugh. A choked laugh, with none of the usual humor behind it, but a laugh nonetheless. All at once, the rest of his systems began working in conjunction with one another, allowing for full sentient function. It was with great embarrassment that he now recognized the _yellow _face and _green _eyes of his traveling companion, Ratchet. Whom had provided a ship, muscle and even intelligence to help with his mission. Whom had taken down the majority of their enemies with a wrench that was now safely tucked in Clank's storage department. Whom was giving him a look of great concern, masked with humor.

"No, numbskull," The organic spoke with surprising gentleness; it was immediate cause for a priority one red alert, as Ratchet had never been that gentle with him, even when being kind, "It's me, Ratchet. You know, the Lombax?" He was smiling, also. Odd. Ratchet almost never smiled.

"What-" He suddenly paused against his will, as his still recovering vocal processor froze mid-message. Less than a second later, it unfroze, leaving an awkward gap in his speech, "-happened?"

The concern in the Lombax's voice never wavered as he carefully placed a hand under Clank's head and body, "You got toasted by lightning," As Ratchet moved, lifting him in the process, the robot's memory bank retrieved the feeling – and, as a robot, he had the misfortune of the entirety of the event, every sensor's output, being recorded to memory. It had been... unpleasant, the several nanoseconds before he crashed when lightning was still surging through his system. Oblivious to his thoughts, Ratchet commented, "This place is having one hell of a storm."

Given the current state of his speech, Clank decided not to point out that this was normal weather for the planet – hence the lightning-based generators that Drek was trying to steal. Instead, he allowed his head to fall against Ratchet's chest as he was carried towards their ship. To his surprise, the ever-constant beating was even more prevalent from this side of his body. It thumped directly against his head, in the same pattern it did when Ratchet was recovering from an attack. He was... afraid?

They approached the ship, which opened upon Ratchet's command, and the robot found himself placed on the seat with a tenderness Ratchet rarely, if ever, displayed. Again, the Lombax spoke, "I don't think we should risk that happening again. You just wait here, pal. I'll be back soon."

The cockpit closed, and Clank watched as Ratchet retreated. Almost immediately, his mind summoned images and actions of Ratchet's to compare with this newest one. A lot of words could be associated with his travel companion, and not all of them negative. He was resourceful. He was strong. He was smart, probably smarter than most other organics. But compassionate? Never before would he have even considered placing this particular word in his personal description of Ratchet.

It seemed that the Lombax was just full of surprises.

Once again, Clank pulled the Omniwrench from his storage compartment, looking it over. He had not thought much about Ratchet's possible previous criminal activities, but surprised himself by finding that he did not care much about them. He had known Ratchet for a while now, and the idea of him being a criminal of any kind was simply inconceivable. Easily angered? Yes. Reckless? Beyond reason. Single-minded? Only about as much as a teenager could be. But the idea that Ratchet – Ratchet, who decided on pretty much a whim to help save the galaxy – could cause others harm with the intent of enriching his own life was just laughable. He instead fashioned a figure of vigilante justice, whom stole from the rich, gave to the poor, punished the corrupt and never apologized for it. And this actually did cause him to laugh aloud. Okay, so it was probably not _that_, either. But whatever it was, it was not worth his time.

What was in the past was in the past. Unless Ratchet himself brought it up, Clank decided to put his focus where it was needed – and, at the moment, it was needed on this wrench. There was an encrypted section of the computer... whatever was beyond THAT locked area must have been impressive.

* * *

It was a full minute later and Ratchet was still shaking.

He could blame his case of the shivers on a number of things. The cool air. The downpour constantly soaking his fur. The cold he was catching that caused him to sniffle uncomfortably, no doubt a souvenir of their recent trip to Hoven. But, if he was being the slightest bit honest with himself... those were just excuses.

Oddly enough, the fear hadn't come from Clank's placement on his back, either. When the lightning had struck, all he had felt was a searing hot burning sensation and an almost unnatural lightness where weight should have been on his back. It had taken him a second to recover, but when he'd turned around it was almost as if the pain wasn't there. Numbed by the invisible soothing force of shock.

It hardly bothered him to move quickly amidst the panic that had occurred when he finally reached Clank's side. The logical part of him, that withheld all knowledge he had of the mechanical arts, knew that shaking him was useless. But what else was he to do? Clank had been so still... A swelling bubble of terror had formed in his stomach, only finally popping when the robot slowly forced open his optics and muttered, his voice signifying that he was not quite all there, the name of Captain Qwark. Only then did Ratchet let himself relax.

It sounded inane... but when Clank had been lying there, eyes closed... it brought the Lombax back to his seven year old self, hysterically calling the name of the only person who'd ever cared about him as two men he didn't know carried him off. Which didn't really make any sense, considering that Clank clearly wasn't a ten-year old Markazian boy. But still...

Ratchet paused, taking a moment to lean on the scorched statue that must have once decorated a highly popular plaza. Before the bombing, of course. Now, it was just as desolate and ruined as every other street he'd passed while walking here. So far, no sign of the Blarg. If he was just some random civilian, or perhaps on a rescue mission, then that would have been a breath of fresh air. Not for Ratchet. For Ratchet, it was a setback. He was here to attempt to find out where Drek was, after all. So he and Clank could take the bastard down before more things like... like this happened.

As he continued walking down a random desolate street, Ratchet wondered what the city would have looked like in its prime, before the bombing. He could almost imagine a sprawling metropolis, with streets protected from the constant flooding by glass awnings and kept warm and lightning-free by specialized atmospheric conditioning units. The buildings were made tall and dark, with elevators everywhere and multiple multilevel walkways. It was actually quite a pretty place. Too bad the Blarg had to come ruin it.

Ratchet's face darkened.

Beforehand, the Blarg had always justified their attacks with the simplistic excuse that they needed a new planet. While he didn't agree, Ratchet could understand, to an extent. But this? Gorda City had always been a place of peace. It didn't even have its own military; a token defense force, yes, but nothing that could hold off the ferocious, bloodthirsty Blarg. This was an attack by a large, strong force on a much weaker one. This was an atrocity.

Not to mention the ruination of the city made navigation a pain. Before leaving, Ratchet should have asked Clank for some sort of map. Now, as he ventured down the decaying walkways, he realized that... he had no idea which way he'd come from. Groaning, Ratchet leaned back against one of the buildings, burying his face in his hands. Oh, man. He'd screwed up big this time. With really nothing else to do, he walked blindly in one direction, not really caring where he ended up. The ship? Great. Then he'd be able to get a map from Clank. Or maybe he would just accidentally run into the Blarg. That was fine, too.

As he moved forward, Ratchet became increasingly aware of the higher walkways above his head. Hey, if he could get up there, he could get a better view of the area. And then maybe he'd be able to find those damned Blarg. Nodding to himself at the conclusion, Ratchet carefully began to climb up the remains of the building closest to the upper walkway. It was slightly different than mountain climbing; he was well aware that there was a greater chance of his foot or hand holds crumbling under his grip, and the incline was far steeper than he was used to. It was almost impossible to get a good grip in some areas. But still he moved up, taking it slower than normal. For not the first time since they'd landed, he found himself wishing that Clank was along. The helipack would really come in handy if he fell.

As Ratchet finally made it to the top of the building, close enough so that he merely had to jump over to the high walkway. Once on it, the first thing he noticed was the increased temperature; he started shaking again, and this time the cold really was the reason. It certainly didn't help that the rain felt like it was coming down harder, now that there was no artificial roof to keep most of it out. It certainly didn't help that what landed on the walkway almost instantly turned to frost, leaving it slippery, borderline impassible. Taking careful steps, Ratchet found a gentle rhythm that made moving along the ice so much easier. Back and forth. Back and forth. One step at a time. It was slow and monotonous, but better than slipping right off the edge. The worst part of it was the gradual numbing of his uncovered feet. In time, as he moved along, searching the streets for any sign of the Blargian menace, the numbing faded, and was replaced by a sort of burning. Wincing, Ratchet stopped for a moment, taking a seat on a barely in-tact bench to rub at his sore feet for a while. Dammit, at some point he'd have to invest in shoes... while the rocks on Kyzil Plateau could get hot, it was never hot enough to actually warrant finding foot protection.

As Ratchet hesitantly picked himself up, a robotic figure came into view, traveling across the upper walkway. It was coated in plastic, with no communication antenna. These measures were most likely taken in order to prevent this thing from sharing the same fate as Clank. In comparison, his smaller traveling companion was like a lightning magnet. He called out as it continued on, "Hey, buddy!"

The thing stopped.

"I'm looking for... the Blarg, I guess. Seen any?"

Instead of heeding Ratchet's request, the thing initiated a full-body scan on the Lombax. It was slightly different from the medical scans Clank had performed when he got himself hurt on Novalis... this one he could feel. He could even see it; a green light coming from its single eye running over his body. Eventually, the light stopped at his waste and turned red.

"'Alert: non-citizen carrying lethal weapons during code red situation. Awaiting lethal force authorization..." It beeped before Ratchet even had the chance to react, "Lethal force authorized. Prepare to be disintegrated."

It must have been one of those non-sentient robots – a mass produced force of easily made clones created for the sole purpose of carrying out battle. They were actually pretty rare, in modern times. Only military forces used them anymore. And, if Ratchet was right, then he had just met a member of the 'token defense force' that Oltanis had. And he quickly realized why these ones in particular had been chosen.

The droid raised one arm, which had already begun glowing blue. The Lombax dodged to one side, only becoming aware of the ice under his feet when his feet shot out from under him, leaving him sprawling on the cold icy walkway. Beeping once as its targeting unit zeroed in on Ratchet, the droid fired again.

Only barely was Ratchet able to pick himself up and dodge. This time, he used the ice to his advantage, sliding down the walkway faster than the volt of electricity aimed at him could follow. While a great getaway, this had the nasty side effect of sending him sliding down the pathway out of control. With a loud yelp, he found himself heading for a turn without a railing and braced himself, ready to go flying off the edge. When it finally did happen, the weight of him falling was almost a relief compared to the insane speeds he reached while under the influence of the ice's slippery effects. But his sharp mind continued working, eyes darting in every which direction, searching for a way out. Which came in the way of a telecommunication orb. With a sly grin, Ratchet pulled the swingshot from his belt, aimed as best he could while falling and fired, just barely hitting the green, spinning orb before being sent flying into the center of a small shopping plaza.

The place was just as deserted as the rest of the world – sans two people. The first of them was a Novalian, staring numbly at the ruins of what Ratchet assumed to be his shop. His entire form shook with the grief of losing his only home. A pang of pity went out to him from Ratchet – despite the general crumminess of Veldin's inhabitants, they hadn't ever threatened his beloved garage. Even now, he thought back to the small abandoned building and felt a deep longing for it. Homesickness, he guessed, or as close as one could get to homesickness without actually missing else about the place.

The second person sent a shiver of pure rage down Ratchet's back.

How the hell had Qwark survived? No, not only _survived_; he'd managed to pick himself up, make it back to Gorda City and scrounged up some sort of lemonade stand. Still shaking, Ratchet marched up to the man, one hand on his pistol. A part of him wanted to just _shoot_ the damned bastard while he was _right there_. But a new sense of justice stopped that; it didn't deny that Qwark deserved the fate Ratchet envisioned, but pointed out all the potential usages Qwark could give while he was still ALIVE. He probably knew where Drek was. So, when Ratchet approached, he examined the man with a dark expression. And spoke surprisingly neutrally, "Captain Qwark."

To Ratchet's surprise, the man jumped at the name, looking from left to right as he promptly exclaimed, "Qwark? WHERE?! I've been trying to get his autograph for ages!"

"Don't fool around with me, Qwark," The Lombax snarled, only showing a portion of his anger as his ears folded back, "I know it's you."

Actually, it was kind of hard NOT to realize that this overgrown cyclomonkey was Qwark. He hadn't bothered to change clothing, and was still wearing the same mask and had the same silly 'Q' stuck to his chest. Nothing about him had changed physically... you had to be an idiot not to recognize him. And still, Qwark played the part of the fool, "No, I'm sorry, friend. My name isn't Qwark. It's... Steve."

...Steve. Annoyance crept through the Lombax's system. He really didn't have time to play this game, "Alright, 'Steve'," It took everything in Ratchet not to roll his eyes at the pathetic show, "I'm gonna give you to the count of 'three' to tell me where I can find Drek. And if you don't..." Ratchet trailed off, instead letting his raised blaster do the talking.

"Why, I've never even heard the name!" Insisted Qwark... Steve... whoever, "I have, however, heard of the fine services of Gadgetron Inc. For over two hundred years, Gadgetron has been providing quality services to people all around the galaxy, and they can for YOU too, if-"

"Seriously," Ratchet placed his hand on his forehead, "can you just STOP it already? If I don't find out where Drek is before it's too late, then-"

"TOO LATE?!" Roared the not-so-incognito superhero, full of passion and power... then he picked up a clipboard and read off of it almost monotonously, "Sir, it is NEVER too late to enjoy one of the fine quality products from Gadgetron Incorporated. Our stock includes E01-H41 robotic servos, Devastator mod Omega-J4532, the customizable PDA-"

Ratchet rose an eyebrow; he really should've been grilling Qwark, he knew, but at the same time... this was pretty amusing to watch, "Public display of affection?"

"No, no, no!" The hero growled, irritation showing on a personal level that made Ratchet smirk, "Personal delivery assistant! Now, where was I? Oh, yes! And a type beta robotic ignition system glove!" Ratchet's ears rose at that last one. It was almost laughable. Had he obtained this at any other point, he would've left Clank behind. But now... it didn't really seem worth much, did it? Clank couldn't very well stop Drek on his own, and if Ratchet didn't do it... who else would? Nobody else in this messed up galaxy seemed to give a damn about the fate of all these planets. Novalis, the capital of his solar system, was toast! So, for the good of the galaxy, whether he wanted to or not, Ratchet stepped up to the plate.

Now, about Qwark...

"And all of these devices can be yours for their lowest prices in years!" The Captain finished, giving a tight grin. And, at that moment... the anger just... left. Qwark looked absolutely ridiculous, covered in mud and pedaling whatever he managed to salvage from his ship for spare bolts. At best, this man was a pathetic slob. Maybe it was his new found dedication to stopping the Blarg talking, but all of a sudden Qwark didn't seem worth even a second of his time. He was a pathetic, washed-up hero who probably knew about as much of Drek's plans as Ratchet himself did. The only thing Ratchet could feel for the man was a sense of regret; he wished he could have figured this out sooner.

"Good luck, man!" Ratchet called casually over his shoulder as he walked away, "With this traffic, you're gonna need it."

* * *

_Status Update: 95.3857399% Functionality_

Clank nodded to himself, then turned his scans back to the wrench. He himself was almost fully repaired and now, he was glad to say, the same could almost be said about Ratchet's beloved Omniwrench. Almost. But the fact of it was that there was still _something_ about this thing that was broken and, truth be told, Clank was not entirely sure it was in tact before the wrench got toasted. It was ancient damage, done long before Clank was even born. It could take decades to fix. And yet, oddly enough, the mystery alone compelled him to continue attempting to repair it. Granted, he should have given it back to Ratchet already – it was better than how it was before Umbris, and the Lombax would surely be grateful. But something compelled him to keep going; it was not a responsibility, and not quite an obsession. It was more... personal than that.

A corrupt file in Sector B-4. Clank purged it from the database and re-wrote it from scratch. It took two point six nanoseconds.

Actually, though, he had gotten quite a bit done tonight. Not only had he broken the cipher on the computer, but he had already gone through and fixed at least half of the files. This was, in part, because he had been left alone to work freely. For almost an hour, actually. He had to ask: where was Ratchet? He had said that he would be right back. Was it that he had gotten lost? Perhaps he should have granted a map to the Lombax. Or maybe... maybe he was hurt. Maybe he had run into the Blargians and was currently engaged in combat, battling Blarg to the death.

...no, he was probably just lost.

Searching for Ratchet, however, was probably the worst thing he could do at the moment. Both he and the infobot currently watching him with curiosity – what? He figured he could use the company, in case the Blarg came – would attract lightning were they to step outside to find Ratchet. No, the better option was to wait another hour or so, then use whatever he could find in the ship to create a makeshift shield against the lightning. But until then, his main focus was the wrench.

* * *

The old man continued to stare at the remains of his ruined store as Ratchet approached. He didn't turn to acknowledge the approaching Lombax. Hesitant, Ratchet almost reached out a hand to touch him, but withdrew it at the last second, instead bringing his other hand up to hold it awkwardly against his torso as he asked, "Sir...?"

It seemed the single word was the final weight that tipped the scale. Unable to hold back anymore, the Novalian elder fell to his knees, weeping and sobbing pathetically at the sight of his home, a business he'd built up and nurtured for years, brought to the ground not by financial ruin, as he had feared for years, but by an attack nobody could have ever predicted. Ratchet just stood by awkwardly, wondering what the hell he should do. After all, he had been through a lot, but never had he been forced out of his home. One of the few mercies Veldin had granted him.

Eventually, he decided physical comfort was the way to go. He placed one soft hand on the older man's shoulder and was surprised by the reception he got; the Novalian embraced him tightly, squeezing him to the point where whether or not he could breath became a serious issue. Eventually he HAD to push the man off and take a few deep recovery breaths before turning to him, "Are you gonna be okay, sir?"

"Yeah..." The blue man sniffled, "'S just... I'm gonna miss the old place, ya know? And it's not like I can head back to Novalis... Metropolis is still in tact, right?" Ratchet gave a short nod, "I... guess I'll see if I can hitch a ride there. Assuming I can find someone with a ship."

The pathetic wailing almost – ALMOST – convinced Ratchet to offer the man a ride, before he shook his head and reminded himself of his mission. Hundreds of millions more would end up just like this unfortunate geezer if he failed. So Ratchet steeled himself against any more of the man's personal misery and spoke with a hint of sympathy, "I'm sorry for your loss, sir... but you have to understand: the people behind this need to be stopped. In order to do so, I need to find a main called Chairman Drek. If you've overheard anything-"

"DREK!" The man spat, "So that yellow-bellied bastard's behind this, eh? Well, I DO have an infomercial concerning him on a disk drive," The Novalian held up the portable drive, scoffing, "He paid me ta play this damned thing in my store then went and ordered something like this?! It makes absolutely NO business sense."

Ratchet gave the drive a long, serious look. Even if it was a few days old, it might give them an idea of where he HAD been in the past few days, and from there they could construct a path to his fleet. The decision was made, and Ratchet reached for the drive, "Sir, I NEED that infomercial!"

"Ah!" The old man growled, holding it just out of Ratchet's reach, "Not so fast! I'll need bolts to get out of here! I can't just let this thing go for free. And I'm sure there're other rich people who've lost their homes due to the Blarg bombing. I'm sure one of them'll pay top price for this!"

Ratchet winced. Not that the man was Helga or Qwark loud, but he must have had his hearing damaged in the bombing, because he was speaking at unnaturally high volumes, "Look, sir, my friend and I work with Captain Qwark," The man immediately directed attention towards the Lombax and, although a part of him loathed invoking Qwark as an ally (even with acceptance, some things never change), Ratchet had to admit it was effective, "If you unload that thing on us, I guarantee you we'll catch him faster than anyone else. In fact," A light bulb went off in Ratchet's head, "We'll even pay a full two thousand bolts for it. Of course, I can only give you a down payment right now..."

In fact, he had about a fourth of the promised price on-hand. The man grinned with a green glimmer in his eyes as he took the bolts, counting them to ensure he got the promised amount. The rest, Ratchet swore, could be gotten from any team Qwark member. All he had to do was tell them that 'Steve' requested the payment be made. This... this was a lot more fun than it should have been. And, in return, the hardware was handed over without complaint. Ratchet grinned at it, feeling rather accomplished. And all this done without Clank! The robot was gonna be proud... or happy... or maybe even a little satisfied. As long as he invoked some synthesized emotion at Ratchet's accomplishment, the Lombax wasn't gonna complain.

Before he could properly thank the man, shake his hand to close the deal, a loud whistling sound assaulted his ear drums, forcing them to press down almost painfully against his head in an almost vain attempt to shield themselves as Blargian ships zoomed by, dropping bombs as they went. Ratchet gasped as one landed relatively nearby, the already painful boom increased by his overly sensitive ears. Dimly, he could also tell that Qwark was packing up and getting the heck out of dodge, moving with his little lemonade stand somewhere less bombable. The old man merely ducked and covered, not really acting all that surprised. The Blarg had, after all, been doing this all day. He was more or less used to it by now.

"Dammit!" The Lombax shrieked as another one landed a little too close for comfort. At this point, he could barely hear, "C'mon, we gotta get moving!" He grasped the elder Novalian's arm, intent on finding a safer place for the geezer to hang out than the remains of his old shop. The streets were even less navigable when one was in a hurry, but Ratchet found that, in this case, the destination did not really matter. What mattered was that they were able to FIND a destination. And then, as if to mock them, the universe threw another little obstacle in their path.

The Blarg.

It was almost laughable; Ratchet had spent his entire trek on Oltanis hoping to run into these jerks, and finally managed to do so only when he had the information he desired. Life freakin' sucked.

Ratchet chirped at the man still following close behind to run, to find a safe place to hide. At first, it didn't seem to register to the Novalian; he merely sat by, awaiting... something with a stunned look on his face. Ratchet had to waste precious time turning around and telling him to run, to run like the wind and never look back. Find shelter, stay safe, _live_, dammit, _live_. The message finally seemed to get through – finally – and he went on his merry way, running like a morph-o-ray victim with its head cut off. It took a bit to get the entirety of the Blargian team to ignore the man and chase Ratchet, but shooting one of them down really helped matters. Soon, it was a chase of life and death.

Good thing Ratchet still had grind boots. A metal railing covered one of the electrical power lines leading off into the distance, and Ratchet hopped on and sped off. Two of his five pursuers had jet packs, and the others merely chased after him. It would take more than luck and strength to beat these bastards. It would take brains, strategy and cunning.

He was _really_ missing Clank at this point.

As they continued to slide down, the eye of a mechanic caught note of some of the weird machines they saw along the way. These were back-up generators, designed to be manually activated should the actual power go out. All he had to do was end up on the right power line... wait for the proper timing... then he stuck his hand out and grasped the switch, pulling it down in a singular fluid motion that barely did more than slow him down. Well, to Ratchet, anyways. The Blarg chasing him were quite a different story. The one on his line was safe, but the two on the other lines roared in utter pain as their lines were activated and fell off unto the deaths of Oltanis. Never to be seen or heard from again. The other three chasing him howled in rage at the deaths of not one, nor two, but three of their beloved companions. Something had to be done. And the Blarg right behind him knew just the thing.

The lines ahead had been cut off by automatic machines. Whoever designed them were freakin' genuises – in the event of a catastrophe, electricity cut off naturally to cut down on the amount of electrical fires. Nothing this, Ratchet brought his attention to a walkway below him and a telecommunication orb above it. Without even knowing if he could make the distance, he decided it was a better fate than flying off into the unknown and jumped for his life.

The Blarg went flying off the edge. He was never heard from again.

The two in jet packs continued following Ratchet. Both seemed determined to take him down as Ratchet himself moved quickly, with all the speed he could muster on a sprained ankle (damned icy walkways...). And that, Ratchet guarenteed, would be their weakness. All he had to do was find one, and...

There it was, speeding down the frozen skypath with that same blank, single-minded stare. Ratchet paused at this point, allowing the two Blarg to catch up with him, and he grinned just as the robot came up behind him and scanned whatever was in front of him – in this case, two Blarg with illegal jetpacks and weapons.

"Alert: non-citizens using illegal technologies and lethal weapons during code red situation. Awaiting lethal force authorization..." It beeped once, "Lethal force authorized. Prepare to be disintegrated."

And that was all the warning either confused Blarg got as the droid opened fire on the both of them with electrical weaponry, instantly vaporizing them both. Satisfied, it turned to perform a scan on the third subject... only for the third subject to have disappeared. The droid bleeped once, then confirmed that the third subject must have been a frightened citizen out of their minds with fear. Content with that conclusion, it continued on its route.

Below the walkway, on the plaza below, Ratchet used the support beams to hold himself up as he rubbed his sore ankle. Not that he wasn't used to long falls or couldn't handle the height – a combination of experience and natural evolution made him better suited for it, actually – but his already injured foot had been jostled by the sudden descent. Still, it was a pretty good getaway, all things considered. Now the only thing left was to make his way back to the ship. Taking a few steps forward, Ratchet gasped in pain and collapsed against a statue. Damn, he hoped he'd be able to find nanotech on the way back-

Then he paused and looked at the statue. It was the same one he'd leaned against as he'd first came into the city.

As annoying as the revelation that he'd just went in a full circle was, having a point of reference did help him navigate his way back. There hadn't been any nanotech to encounter on the way back, but maybe there was some stored away in their ship. Hopefully. If he was just the tiniest bit lucky.

He probably wouldn't be, though.

When he got back, Clank was just sitting there, waiting patiently. Had he been doing that the whole time? He must have been REALLY bored. Or maybe not. Either way, he seemed to have recovered at least some, being able to speak in full, articulate sentances.

"Welcome back," The robot greeted as Ratchet awkwardly pulled himself into the cockpit, trying his damnedest not to jostle his injured foot. This did not go unnoticed, "Did something happen?"

There was no use lying to the little pest, so Ratchet spoke honestly, "Got myself a little hurt on the way back. Do we have any-?"

"The Blargian Blackwing N7-054235 comes with an automatic nanotech dispenser," The robot let off a little laugh, probably to lighten the mood, "They really 'pulled out all the stops' with this model, as you organics would say. But, on to more important matters," His tone suddenly turned monotone, and perhaps a touch grave, "Did you discover anything about the whereabouts of Supreme Executive Commander Drek?"

Ratchet leaned back and let out a content sigh as the nanotech surged through him. It was just the right amount, too – not so soothing that he'd go get himself hurt just to feel it. Just enough to make him forget that he was ever hurt in the first place, "I know where he was yesterday," The Lombax chirped, more than a little proud of himself as he handed the disk drive to Clank. The robot gave it an odd look, then inserted it in his infobot and the automatic playback commenced.

* * *

"_Afraid to go outside at night?"_

_A picture of a man getting mugged._

"_Afraid to go outside during the day?"_

_A picture of a man getting mauled by a vicious beast._

"_Just plain afraid?"_

_A picture of a man getting terrorized by... a little kid._

"_Well, no more of that! The Blarg are offering you something not even Gadgetron themselves can claim – pure, one hundred percent safety guaranteed at all times. And, with the Ultra-Mech Unlimited, this safety can be yours for the low, low price of 450,000,000,000,000 bolts per bot! Pre-order now, and you'll get your very own Ultra-Mech coffee mug for only 25 bolts more!"_

_A sudden screencap of Chairman Drek, giving a handsome smile to the camera._

"_I'm Supreme Executive Chairman Drek, and I approve this message."_

* * *

Ratchet whistled, "Damn, only forty-five hundred trillion bolts? At least Drek is as photogenic as ever. Evil as he is, you can't deny that the camera loves that guy... Clank? You okay?"

"..." The robot said nothing for a moment, staring mutely at the now deactivated infobot, whose limited expression mirrored Ratchet's of slight concern to the best of its ability. Then, he spoke with a sense of... not stoicism. Numbness was a better word, "The... coordinates from this commercial lead us to planet Quartu. A robot factory on Quartu..." It was almost as if the mere idea that there could be a Blargian factory there... confused the robot, "On Quartu..."

"What, you jealous of those big hunks of metal or something?" Ratchet joked, but it was almost entirely present to smother out a growing sense of alarm. On rare occasions, a robot could be subjected to issues loading things from their memory banks when electrocuted. It was about as likely as a rainstorm on Veldin, but still. There couldn't have been good odds for him meeting Clank either, and yet that happened...

"No..." Clank spoke, still numb, "That is not it. It is..." He shook his head suddenly, instead opting to stare at the dashboard, "Never mind. It is... unimportant. I have uploaded the coordinates into the navigation computer. ETA is two hours, thirty minutes."

Clank still seemed off, but Ratchet figured he was still recovering. After all, it's not every day one is subjected to such trauma as enduring a direct strike of lightning. Tossing an unsure glance back at the robot, Ratchet started up the ignition and commenced take off, reaching the required speed quicker than normal due to the more advanced ship model and launching the two of them deep into space. Clank would probably be fine. He just needed some time to recover. And, if not... well, Ratchet was better with hardware than software, but he was pretty sure he could repair damaged programming if need be. It wouldn't be as perfect as someone like Al or his crazy siblings could get it, but it would be better than this state of shock Clank seemed to be stuck in.

* * *

"It seems as though Qwark has failed, sir."

"Yes, I noticed. Pity he wasn't brutally murdered in the process."

"We can divulge a team to-"

"NO! No time! We need all resources devoted to wiping out that accursed blot of a planet that stands in our way! Tell me you have found a BETTER way of doing so than a poorly made bomb that a damned defect can hack?"

"Well, technically, sir, that robot is more advanced than-"

"I. Don't. Care."

"We-we're working on something, sir. I think you'll like it. But what about-?"

"The criminals? It's not your job to worry about that... speaking of which, please go do your job before I am forced to give it to somebody more competent."

"Ah! Sir, yes sir! I-I'll get back on that!"

"Besides... I think I have a good idea of what'll make that robot tick..."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: I googled the probability of lightning striking somebody. That number I got was from some government site. Don't know which one... and why isn't googled a Webster dictionary word yet? I mean, it's already mainstream!

I really like this chapter. Not as much as Orxon part II, but definitely more than the last two chapters. I even added some humor and made it intentional! O_o You'd be surprised how rare that is for me...

Oh, I'm better now, in case anyone cared. Turns out I caught a nasty stomach virus. The average lifespan was five to fourteen days, according to the doctor. Mine lasted about a week.

What did I do good on?: The first three pages. For some odd reason, this is my favorite cutscene in the entire game. Excluding the ending. And I even used my own headcannon to rationalize it! Go me!

What did I fail on?: The Clank interlude kinda seems pointless. I meant to add something there, but the only thing I could come up with made absolutely no sense, so I just left it as is.

Random question for reviewers: Who would win: katz or kowz? (They are spelled like that for a reason.)


	18. Quartu: Companion

Was it only Ratchet who felt that they were walking into a trap?

They HAD to be. This was a supposedly secure Blargian facility, and yet they never got the announcement that they must input a security code or be vaporized. There was no resistance at all as they touched down right outside the facility, at the junction where the manufacturing plant and the test labs. This did not, in any way, fit the Blargian profile Ratchet had built up during their travels. And yet he was the only one who seemed to be on alert. Clank didn't say anything or speak the obvious at all. He didn't wish to discuss the possible traps they could face. He... he wasn't doing anything. He just stared blankly at his own feet, lost in thoughts most likely incomprehensible to Ratchet. He hadn't even noticed that they'd landed.

"Hey," He reached one hand over, hesitated for a brief moment to await a response, and then placed it on the robot's shoulder and shook gently, "Hey. We're here."

The robot blinked, then looked up and out the window. So they were. How had he let himself get so out of it that he had failed to notice their arrival? Their arrival on... on Quartu...

Although his memory of his creation had been a tad fuzzy before today, the mere mentioning of the planet's name had brought to light information Clank had been unable to access before. Security codes, personal names, defensive measures and how to stop them... there was more information about the place he was born within his memory banks than any other planet they'd visited. It made sense, considering the identity of his creator, but it had still been quite a shock to have all of this information available all at once. What Ratchet perceived as Clank spacing out was in reality the robot examining all of the information he had gotten. Considering how fast Clank can process new intelligence, the fact that he had to spend the entire ride going through the new info should give you an idea of exactly how much he knew about the place.

And it was all thanks to her...

"Clank?" Ratchet raised a brow, "You still recovering from that lightning strike on Oltanis?"

"No," The robot shook his head. That must have been it. The damage he had received from the direct lightning strike was interfering with his ability to process. That was the only reason he was dwelling on this information. That... that must have been it, "I am fine."

The Lombax still looked unsure. Oltanis still had him a little paranoid, "If you're not sure, then you can stay here. I don't mind going solo again."

Again, the robot denied, "No, that is alright. After sitting out Oltanis, it is only right that I accompany you this time. Besides, I am functioning at 98.6% actual capacity. I do not believe that I shall be a hindrance." And besides, Ratchet would not be able to pass through the laboratories without his help. The only way through was a series of passages sealed by tower controlled locks... or, alternatively, a highly secured emergency passage that was not only submerged in water, but filled to the brim with booby traps. Ratchet would need his new 'hydropack' (as the Lombax jokingly called it) to even stand a chance of survival.

Ratchet still looked doubtful, but eventually consented with a sigh, "Fine. Let's get moving," and so Clank was reattached to the mechanic's belt harness, fitting into the slot with a _click_. Clank took a moment to re-calibrate his settings, making sure that he was equipped to sense their surroundings and keep his sense of inertia while he was moving backwards. All systems checked out. And then he realized that they were not moving. Confusion surfaced, before he turned his head to better see what Ratchet was looking at and found himself staring at the entrance to the robotic manufacturing plant. Where... where _she_ was.

A part of him – some unidentified part that wished to indulge in the fantasy-like urge he felt to continually go over the information his mother had gifted him on this particular planet – wanted to go in that direction. But the logical part of his mind overruled that. It was heavily guarded by a small portion of the very robots it created and, more importantly, a number of force fields that could only be turned off from inside the facility. There was no possible way for them to gain access to the facility. Or at least... none that his simulated scenarios predicted both of them coming out of alive.

It was with a resigned, almost disappointed tone that Clank finally directed Ratchet away from the facility. They had other things to do. Meeting _her_ could wait until his quest to stop Drek was completed... assuming he was still functional.

* * *

The only way into the testing labs, according to the piece of metal strapped to his back, was through a water-filled emergency passageway filled with lasers and mines; a guaranteed death sentence. Or, alternatively, he could attempt to break through the security checkpoints, where he was less likely to be vaporized, but more likely to be disabled and captured by a combination of Blargian guards and automatic security forces. From there, it was likely that he would be dismembered (just enough so that you could not properly hold a weapon. Ever.) and tortured by the very people you were set to go against. You would live, most likely, but you would be contained for the rest of your life.

Certain death it was.

Under Clank's oddly specific instructions, Ratchet crept alongside the tower to the opposite side, where a series of tube-like rungs jutted out from the wall, creating a rather awkward ladder. Supposedly, spoke the robot as they continued upward towards the hidden passageway, it was created like this so that those without large, muscular hands would have a rougher time getting up, covertly convincing them that there was nothing of value up this way. Apparently, the Blarg were more sensitive to grip positions than other races. Interesting... not. But hey, at least he was showing some 'semblance of normalcy in his desire to share the information. So long as he was not deathly silent again, Ratchet found that he didn't mind so much.

Reaching the top was a bit of a pain. When Ratchet finally did make it all the way to the third story, where Clank claimed the secret passage lay, he was met with a giant basin filled to the literal brim with water. Ratchet winced at the sight of the stuff – he didn't necessarily hate water, despite his little tiff on Rilgar, but the thought of being down there for so long without access to a fresh source of oxygen freaked him out. It shouldn't have. Not with the O2 mask in his possession. But it still did.

After a single moment of hesitation, Ratchet placed a single toe in the water and retreated with an exaggerated shiver. The water wasn't quite that cold, but being down there long enough would have a similar effect on his... admittedly lithe form. Fur only protected so much.

Swallowing back his per-conceptions, Ratchet fished out the red mask and fitted it snugly onto his face. He double-checked to ensure that it wasn't loose; the last thing he wanted was a mouthful of water. After ensuring that, he gave a quick thumbs up to Clank and, without making sure that the tiny 'bot acknowledged him, jumped into the water, feet first. A loud splash signaled their problem-free entry, with Ratchet giving an instinctive shiver as his body was surrounded by biting, chilling _cold_. If this was an average temperature waterway, then he was glad Clank opted not to take the frozen passageway on Hoven. That... that would've turned out real bad. As it was, though, he gave a few experimental strokes, trying to remember how to move his limbs – as he had in a panicked frenzy back on Rilgar. But now he had the time to figure out how this works. Unlimited time – and he planned to make the most of it.

Silently, he moved his arms in various ways, experimenting with different positions and motions. Some only propelled him forward in inches, at a slow pace; some had him moving forward swiftly, without any pauses. There were even positions that slowed him to a halt. Then, he started kicking, the furred legs only minimally being weighed down by wet cloth. He twirled and kicked and let out a short laugh. Ya know, when you're life isn't at risk this whole 'swimming' thing wasn't so bad. It was actually kind of... fun. Whimsical. Weird.

As soon as he had gotten used to the strange movements, Clank upped the level of oddness in aquatic movement by activating his hydropack to propel them forward. The speed was awkward to adjust to, but eventually his arms and legs began moving smoothly and fluently in time with the bursts of speed that the jet provided, creating fluid motion. It was as if they were in the sky; Ratchet could feel, against his will, all his cares and pains being soothed by the liquid moving around him, quickly scrambling out of the way of the jettisoning Lombax and his robotic backpack.

Once they'd worked out something of a system – a somewhat strange process, as neither could speak underwater – Ratchet worked his way through the tight confines of the maintenance tunnels, keeping his eyes peeled for the security measures Clank had mentioned. Certainly enough, a red beam of energy cut off their path; Ratchet would have run right into it had he not directed them upward, resulting in his head hitting the top of the tunnel with a distorted thump. A quick rub of his skull later – thankfully, no blood or lumps – and Ratchet took a quick moment to judge the timing he'd need and then signaled to Clank to activate the jet. The robot complied without hesitation, and the two spun past the laser with no further complication. The next one didn't give them quite the same trouble; Ratchet determined that they all began from a specific point and, after having found that point, only needed to stay away from that fixed point to avoid the incoming lasers.

It didn't get any easier when they uncovered an area where the water was _electrified_. The robot had never been much for moving around on his back, only making noticeable twists and turns when he had something to say, but it was clear that the sight of the electricity didn't sit well with him, as he tensed up against Ratchet's back. Was that an instinct? Did robots even have instincts?

Deactivating it was a simple matter of Clank's hacking ability, but it also came with a warning; cutting off the electrical booby-trap also cut off all electricity in the base, meaning it would not be long before one of the workers re-activated the power and, thus, the trap. They would need to be quick. And quick, Ratchet intended to be. The moment the electricity stopped flowing through the liquid, he wasted no time in diving under the water, using his new techniques and Clank's hydropack to zoom through the water, cutting through it easily as they moved through the water. Thankfully, Clank cutting the power also disabled the lasers. However, it was all too easy to imagine both returning to full strength, slicing into his body, and to distract himself Ratchet began blueprinting in the recesses of his mind. Normally, he saved the creative juice for when he needed it, but at the moment all he needed was to move fast and keep calm. If that meant ignoring his usual method of waiting until he had paper to brainstorm, then so be it.

They had been down there for who knows how long when they'd finally reached the other side. The first thing Ratchet did was pull off that damned mask. It was useful, but he couldn't deny how uncomfortable the thing was. Clank wasn't on his back anymore, he noticed after tearing the thing off. He had moved to stare over the edge of the platform, absorbed in the electrical current that was now flowing freely through the waters. He looked... lost.

Ratchet called to the robot, just once. Blinking in shock, Clank returned the look with surprise, his mouth gaping slightly. But a second later he nodded, a sort of grim determination set on his face. In a single movement, the two were reconnected, back to back once again.

* * *

The testing labs were quite large... if one counted the humongous arena stationed in the center of the place. Without it, the labs themselves were surprisingly small. Only a small fraction of the size of the Metropolis Research Academy on Kerwan. Of course, considering the subject of their research was merely robotic engineering, the small scope of the facility made sense. Especially considering the combination of paranoia and penny-pinching natures that the Blarg possessed. A smaller facility meant less money and less security risks. For the Blarg, this was good.

For Ratchet and Clank, this was... also good. It meant less chance of being discovered. Less ground to cover. And less security forces that they would have to fight through, assuming they got themselves caught. Which was doubtful, seeing as Clank's instructions had them crawling through the ventilation system. Which was just large enough for Ratchet to crawl through on his stomach and still had a few centicubits of space between his ears and the ceiling.

When you look at it, it's a win-win situation.

"Turn left here," Clank's voice was a heck of a lot softer than normal. They had discovered, rather quickly, that the vents were quite... echo-y, for lack of a better word. One wrong sound and whatever Blargian guards just happened to be near the vent would hear them and alert the entire base to their presence. And it was an unspoken mutual agreement that THAT was not to happen, at all costs. It was a death sentence for the both of them. All Ratchet dared to respond with was a nod of the head; he, unlike Clank, couldn't control the exact pitch and decibel of his voice, and thus risked speaking aloud less as a result. The only real sounds were the near silent thumps Ratchet's limbs made as he moved forward and the equally silent voice of the robot.

Thanks to Clank's little shortcut, they bypassed the guards pacing the outer walkway of the facility. One quick look outside and Ratchet found himself looking up at the face of one such guard, head helmeted and brandishing a high-level plasma rifle. For a brief second, Ratchet stiffened, then quickly shimmied forward. By the time Clank could get a clear view at what had caused Ratchet to speed up, the soldier was already gone.

On the inner side of the wall was the test arena. It was there, through a gate that Ratchet passed by without a glance, that Clank caught sight of the gigantic robots advertised on Oltanis. The sight of them brought his thoughts back to _her_ – she was responsible for the creation of every robot within the plant, and yet he failed to see how robots of this size could have possibly been created by _her_. There was something off about these gigantic, expensive machines. There weren't bully defense droids, as the infomercial implied. They were clearly made for large-scale combat, and they needed to be destroyed. He did not have the time to scan them, though. At this point, Ratchet moved out of range, cutting off Clank's visual contact from the humungous machines. That was fine. He would figure something out... later. For now, they had a Blargian chairman to find.

After what felt like hours of squirming through the uncomfortable metal vent, Clank finally told Ratchet that they could disengage, exiting out of a grate to the Lombax's left. It was a tight squeeze, tighter than the actual vents, but Ratchet managed to roll out of the grating with a grunt, twisting onto his stomach unceremoniously and just lying there for a moment, getting used to the environment around him. Neither he nor the robot on his back noticed the curious scientist approaching them. He was Solanian – yellow, a tuft of ginger hair on his head. An average looking male, in a respects. But one with a healthy scientific curiosity and a equally healthy hatred of the Blarg. Investigating these two intruders, taking such things into consideration, didn't sound like a bad idea.

Ratchet glanced up and, being in enemy territory, reacted on instinct, raising his blaster to the man's head and glaring, his eyes conveying a silent warning: Don't call the guards. In response, the Solanian scientist took two steps back, smiling patiently as he responded, "Relax, friend. I'm no friend to these Blarg bastards. You're safe in here," And, just for extra measure, he added a wink and said, "I disabled the security cameras a long time ago."

Somewhat satisfied, the Lombax picked himself up and brushed himself off. Although somewhat suspicious, he decided to play it cool; hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Nodding, he stuck out his hand, "Thanks. I'm Ratchet."

"Link," The scientist greeted, meeting Ratchet's hand in the universal sign of agreement; a handshake, "I'm the deputy department head for the Attachments and Mods division. Or at least, I was. Now, I'm just packing my bags," The scientist gave a little smirk, "'Course, that doesn't mean I can't have the last laugh. See that machine over there?"

His fingers directed Ratchet towards a strange blue pad on the floor, with a metallic grating. The Lombax raised his brow in response. He considered himself pretty good with tech, but without seeing more of the machine he wasn't quite sure what to make of it, "Yeah?"

"It's somethin' I invented a few years back. An Enlarging Ray," Here, the man smiled in pride, "It was my greatest achievement. But all the Blarg could see was the potential profit of 'bigger and better' robots."

And now it all made sense, Clank realized. _She_ had no way of creating robots of that size. Her assembly line could not handle it. But if they started out at about the size of the model he was based off of and enlarged at completion, then this made total sense. Not only could _she_ pump them out with efficient speed, but the Blarg would spend next to nothing in the process and be able to charge ridiculous prices. That sounded just about right.

Link shot a mischievous smirk at the machine, "But they won't be able to after tonight! If I'm goin' down, then my pride an' joy is goin' down with me! All I have to do is isolate the coding so that only certain circuit patterns are allowed in, then make sure they're unable to edit the software externally..."

At this point, the Solanian began mumbling aloud, figures and equations being tossed out and recanted at amazing speeds. It left Clank blinking. Was this organic processing? It was... familiar. Although he never talked to himself aloud, Ratchet had that same spark, that same... passion in his eyes when working on the fighter on Pokitaru, broken only when he took the time to snap at Clank. It seemed as though his hypothesis was incorrect; Ratchet was not the only organic subject to odd obsessions. There were others with that same fervor for their art. That mystery was solved, but others were raised entirely. Others Clank would investigate further at a different time. For now, though...

"Perhaps we could be of assistance," Clank offered, "My circuit pattern is most likely similar enough for the machine to accept it, but different enough so that the Blargians cannot use the machine."

Link looked at him, oddly, then broke out into a grin, "Well, aren't you a little trooper! Alright then, but I gotta warn ya; for this to work, you're gonna have ta be enlarged for the machine to scan ya. Then I'll be able ta lock it with zero complications."

"...and in the meanwhile," Ratchet butted in, "'We can go bust those giant mechs."

A splendid idea on Ratchet's part, Clank found himself agreeing. Those things were a threat to his mission, assuming Drek put them to use in combat and, worse, they were a mockery of all that _she_ created. Still, a thought nagged at him from somewhere in the back of his processor, and he blurted out his concern without caution, "and then you will change me back... right?"

"Change... you... back..." The Solanian repeated, tasting each word on his lips before shrugging comedically, "Never tried that before... but why the heck not?"

Clank took a look at Ratchet, who didn't really give an opinion aloud. He did, however, bare a hole into Clank with his stare, and the robot relented, "Oh, very well. Let us do this," And, disregarding his own self-preservation programming, he stood on the platform and closed his eyes, awaiting the transformation. The end result was... shocking.

He could not feel quite like organics did, but still his circuits recognized that they were being enlarged and adjusted accordingly, creating an odd sensation of being stretched. It was... unpleasant, but only lasted a second. Then he could not feel at all. Curiously, he opened his eyes and saw, about a story below him, one Lombax looking up with an aloof expression. The scientist had, meanwhile, wasted no time in returning to his work, messing with the software while Clank took a cautious step forward. And another. Strange... this whole 'walking' thing had changed completely with the new weight and height. It felt somewhat... familiar, to be so lost. An image of himself, toddling towards an infobot, was retrieved from the depths of his memory bank and he metaphorically swallowed it back, instead looking down at the suddenly insignificant Ratchet. He was so small now... was this how the Lombax looked at him?

"HEY!" He called up, ears bent back, "CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Yes," He responded at a tone that sounded normal to him but had Ratchet's ears stretched back in a vain search for relief. Making a note to keep his voice quiet in this form, he continued, "I believe this is where I head into the arena and take out those experimental mechs. Care to join me?" He lowered his hand down so that Ratchet, if he so chose, could climb onto it. And, after giving Clank a look with a squinted eye, he did just that, allowing himself to be placed upon Clank's shoulder.

Getting to the arena itself was no small task. He was too large to fit through the doors and could not just bust down any wall in his way, so instead he took the outer walkway, fighting through crews of Blargian guards with ease. Most dropped their guns at the sight of him. Some had the gall to fight back, but where chased off by either Ratchet's blaster pointing a stray shot their way (which probably would have been worlds more accurate had the Lombax had a steady platform. As it was, he was required to have one hand on Clank's head to balance himself) or by Clank himself coming a tad too close to stepping on them. They made it into the arena with virtually no problems.

That was when the Ultra Mechs awoke. Each one had more weapons than Clank and Ratchet combined, but the duo more than made up for it with strategy. Missiles were turned against teammates, and lasers were simply abandoned. The only time things got tense for either of the duo was when a stray shot whirled much too close to Clank. It did not impact, but its passage was enough to knock Ratchet off of his shoulder and down his back, where he held on for dear life as Clank was unable to stop and allow him to climb back up, being engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another one of those monsters. When it was finally over, and Ratchet was able to climb back up, Clank could not resist a comment.

"So," He began, getting the tired mechanic's attention, "how was hanging off my back, forced to watch as I battled my way through a battalion that had me outnumbered and outgunned?"

The response was grumbled half-heartedly, "Yeah, yeah. Don't think the irony is lost on me, pal."

Feeling satisfied with the results, Clank made his way back to the machine. It was a relief to him that Link was able to turn him back in the end – as interesting as it had been, towering over everyone else, there was also a sense of wrongness about it that had the robot itching to return to his normal size. And when it was all over, even Ratchet had smirked and jokingly told him it was nice to have him back... sorta. And now the machine was off-limits to anyone who tried to use it.

"That'll teach ya!" The scientist shouted to the sky, "Damned Blarg... they give me a two-week notice and tell me I have to do ALL these jobs before I leave or I won't get my final pay..."

Clank tilted his head to the side, "Such as?"

"Ah, the usual. Repair this, improve this. Strange thing, though, is that they wanted me to delete the AI before I left. Weird," He shrugged, "Seein' as she runs the whole plant. Can't do a thing without her. But, whatever."

And it was at this point that the odd numbness he had felt upon hearing the name 'Quartu' returned. His servos froze, leaving him incapable of movement. His memory bank certainly did not help, bringing up that message, and all the information left from... _her_...

Then, everything clicked at once. It was all he could do not to simply scream as the robot scrambled over to Ratchet, faster than he had ever moved and gripped his arm tightly enough that he could feel the various veins and arteries running through it, "Ratchet, I know this is a major detour, but we must find some way to enter the plant on the other side of the facility. We HAVE to make certain that the AI is alright."

Somewhat surprised, Ratchet blinked in surprise and pulled his arm away, "Uh, I don't think so. If she's making war droids for the Blarg, maybe it's best if we let them destroy her."

"No!" Clank shook in frustration, attempting to explain, "She... she is..." Eventually, he gave up and used his internal thesaurus to find any synonym he could use to describe _her_, and eventually came across an organic term that fit her pretty well, "She is my mother."

Silence.

In the background, Link blinked in surprise. When he had recruited the help of these two, this had certainly not been what he had expected, "Um... shouldn't you two wait until I'm gone to have this conversation?"

He was ignored.

Ratchet looked more confused than anything. His ears were even with his head, one perked slightly to match a raised brow on his face. Of all the questions, all of the observations that he could make, and the only one he could come up was, "You're Blargian?"

Clank blinked at the question, but responded to it almost automatically, "Only about as much as you are a Veldinite. Just because I originate from a Blargian AI does not mean I empathize with their culture or ideals. Quite the contrary, in fact," The robot squeezed his fists in a reflexive response to a flare of anger that rose in him as his memory banks brought up all the information he had on the race, "My increased understanding of them actually increases my desire to stop their goals."

Hatred of the people who he technically belonged to. THAT Ratchet understood perfectly, "Well, alright then," He paused, "But you said it yourself: the chances of getting past those security gates are bar-none if you're not one of those droids, and pardon me when I say that I don't think they'll be so happy to let 'little brother' come home."

And here was where Link stepped in again, "Actually, my brother recently invented a device that could help. He sold its design to Gadgetron... you could probably get a beta version from them on Kalebo III. I'll call him and see what he can do to help you out."

"Kalebo III, huh?" The Lombax spoke up. He knew the planet well; having been a faithful follower of Gadgetron news, even if he could never afford their technologies, since he was a kid, Ratchet would have recognized the name of their base of operations anywhere. If they needed something Gadgetron, then this was the place to go.

Link just smiled at them, "Consider it payment for helping me with my... err... egregious mistake. And don't worry, that's the last time I let my famed inventions be used for work that's so... so..."

It was at this point that Ratchet took pity on the poor boy and decided to be helpful, for once, "Evil?"

"Yup. That's the word."

* * *

"Ratchet, I need to request a favor from you."

The Lombax paused, finger seconds away from making contact with the ignition. Sighing, he turned to face the robot to his side. Clank was staring with his usual large, unfeeling eyes, but at this point that probably meant that he was unsure of how to properly feel, which meant this was something emotionally complex. Hopefully, it was nothing about his own relationship to his family; Clank having a mother was... great and all, but Ratchet would prefer not to divulge any information of that variety. Letting out a tired sigh, Ratchet gave the robot a nod to indicate he was listening, and then a verbal cue to continue when he realized that Clank missed it.

Still, the small mech hesitated, silently entwining his fingers and then shifting them again. After a fifteen second wait, Ratchet reached for the ignition gain when Clank finally, finally began speaking, "According to the Doctrine of Synthetic Rights; robotic crimes section sixteen subsection four, paragraph six, an AI found guilty of war crimes is subject to... permanent deletion. Seeing as I am trying to stop the war, I am exempt of this by clause four, but my mother... she has created so many of the war machines we have been forced to fight. If she is discovered..."

Ratchet sat back against the seat, watching Clank babble with one wide eye and one squinted one.

And then, with a shake of his head, Clank got to the point, "I need you to keep the location of the Quartu robot production plant a secret. If the galactic rangers get a hold of her, they will delete her without ever knowing that the majority of the intel we have used against the Blarg came from what she stored within my memory banks. Ratchet..."

And now he was pleading. Ratchet sunk a little in his chair, a sense of comprehension now dawning. Clank could say what he wanted to about his intentions, but perhaps, deep in the beginning, Clank's only reason for stopping the Blarg was... _her_. Even if his conscience and sense of justice kept him going, what got him started was a loyalty and love for _her_. And, looking back, Ratchet really could not find any evidence disproving that theory. To imagine, doing something so horrible or so great... out of nothing but pure love... Ratchet took a moment to wonder what that was like before shaking his head, focusing on the quite nervous looking robot.

He scoffed, "Robot factory? On Quartu? I think that lightning bolt on Oltanis did a bigger number on your memory banks than I thought."

There was a brief flash of surprise – had he really expected Ratchet to reject him? – before Clank's face faded into one of gratitude, "Thank you, Ratchet."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: This chapter... wasn't quite what I was expecting. Ya see, I thought it'd start out slow and get better, but in the end I kinda feel like its better at the beginning and sort of bogs down towards the end. I blame my lack of conversation skills.

What did I do good on?: I liked the swimming section. That was fun and easy to write.

What did I fail on?: The dialogue closer to the end. I don't like exposition heavy dialogue scenes, and for a reason. They're always really bogged down. I try to pace them out better, but sometimes you just have to come out and say it.

Random question for reviewers: Which is worse: chocolate covered dynamite or scalloped potatoes?


	19. Kalebo III: Trust

Clank was not quite sure what to make of it.

By 'it', he of course meant the subtle twitching of Ratchet's ears. Well, it had been subtle at first, anyways. Now they were flicking back and forth uncontrollably, as if swatting at some invisible pest flying mutely around Ratchet's ears. In addition to the ear spasms, the thin line that was Ratchet's mouth slowly but surely transformed into an annoyed scowl; his eyes contributing to the effect by narrowing in irritation.

The survival of their newly discovered camaraderie rested on Clank's ability to read Ratchet, and at the moment something was bugging the Lombax. He was brought back, for a brief moment, to Quartu; to Ratchet's face as the two made their way back to their ship. He had been silent, something Clank had quickly learned meant trouble, and when questioned about it Ratchet gave a short, sad look to him before moving forward just the slightest bit quicker. That time, Clank had decided not to pry. But if it was still bugging Ratchet after so long... perhaps asking again was not such a bad idea.

"Is something the matter?" He kept his tone low. It did not take a genius to realize that Ratchet responded better to softer sounds; a product of his large, powerful ears.

Ratchet turned to grant him a look of the incredulous kind, "You mean you can't hear that? The beeping," At Clank's baffled shrug, he sighed, "It-it's like there's this loud, really high-pitched beeping noise right in my ear. At first I didn't really notice it, cause the trips were so short, ya know? But Kalebo III's on the other side of the galaxy and it's so quiet..." He sighed, "Just ignore me. I'm used to things buzzing in my ears."

Clank thought for a moment, his memory banks systematically retrieving information for processing. Eventually, he came to a conclusion, "Were you exposed to any loud noises as a young child? Such sounds could be associated with damage to the ear drums."

"No..." The Lombax was simply frowning now, as opposed to the loathsome scowl he had been wearing earlier, "Not that I can remember, anyways. But... seriously, it's nothing. It's probably nothing..."

* * *

Both Ratchet and Clank were horribly wrong.

What Ratchet heard was not, in fact, a byproduct of damage to his ears, but in fact a form of message relaying called harmonic frequency transmitting. This process worked by sending off a high-pitched series of loud, long beeps that were intercepted by strategically placed satellites in every section of the galaxy. The series of beeps would then be translated and sent off to HQ. Yet another pointless security measure enacted by the Blarg on their most expensive ships.

It would be quite some time before Clank would realize the existence of the device. He would get rid of it promptly and discreetly, not wanting to have to bother Ratchet with something like this. It would be several minutes after that before he would realize that his hearing array was set up to having a range of fifteen to twenty-thousand hertz, equal to that of your average Solanian; such was the default setting for robots in this galaxy. Ratchet, on the other hand, had an increased range of hearing. Not only could his ears trace sounds of softer and lower decibels than most, but they could also sense a higher range of frequency, between ten and fifty-thousand hertz. He would first smack his own head for not considering this and instead jumping to the conclusion that Ratchet was hearing things. He would then go and tell Ratchet of this discovery, being sure to keep WHY he suspected Ratchet had an increased range of hearing all to himself. Ratchet never would find out about that tracking device.

Only one person, other than Clank, would ever know about the device's existence. That somebody was the one who personally fitted the device (inside his custom-made fighter) himself: Supreme Executive Chairman Drek. With every movement that the ship made, his personal computer got pinged, and was set to graph the ship's every moment. With an ability like that, it didn't take long for one to pinpoint WHERE your target is going. Kalebo III. The Gadgetron HQ.

Being the reserved and cautious – by Blargian standards, at least – leader that he was, Drek would not dare to attempt a direct attack on Gadgetron. That was simply asking for trouble. But those two nimrods had gone from unpleasant burdens to overwhelming menaces. They had destroyed trillions upon trillions of bolts worth of Blargian merchandise. He had been far too lenient with the two, convinced that they posed no threat to his actual mission. But now... now he knew. They both – not one nor the other, but BOTH – had to die. And he knew just the people for the job.

Certainly enough, a man clothed entirely in black entered the room just then and there – an interesting, but unquestioned coincidence – and the Blargian executive gave him simple, exact orders, "The targets are heading to Kalebo III. Get there as soon as possible, track them and exterminate them. Make sure you don't get Gadgetron's attention – that's the last thing I need right now. Oh," He spoke up as his assassin moved towards the door, "And you are to never speak of this meeting. If the rest of the galaxy found out about this hit, we'd be sunk. Understood?" The man saluted. Though technically a rogue by Blargian standards, he was still as loyal as any member of the species, "Good. Now, go!"

And with that, the assassin left, leaving the Blargian leader to look upon his nearly completed planet.

They only needed one more piece.

* * *

"-no, I'm just saying," Ratchet kept his voice low; the conversation, while interesting, really wasn't worth shouting for, "If a company monopolizes like Gadgetron is trying to, it completely cuts off the market for people who are self-employed or work for the middle man."

Clank shook his head, "You are assuming that people would be stubborn enough to keep up their own businesses after said monopoly occurred. A company like Gadgetron would need to employ thousands upon thousands to take the place of all these little stores, and I think the first people any intelligent monopoly would hit up would be their underprivileged competition," The robot paused in his speech, then asked, "Is this really the right place to be having this conversation?"

"Probably not," The Lombax sighed, folding his arms behind his head as he walked. How did this conversation even start again? They had been discussing... mission objectives? Ratchet couldn't really remember, but the conversation had turned and twisted until it became a debate about the pros and cons of Gadgetron business practices. And it had been... fun. Huh. Never, in Ratchet's limited experience with friendship, did he find himself deriving joy from mere conversation. It had always been about going out there and doing stuff – anything to keep them away from home, really. Any dialogue was either short, sweet and to the point or bad news, and one learned quickly that the only real defense one has is their sharp tongue.

So how was he... enjoying this?

Well, it didn't matter anyways. They were there; standing outside of the Gadgetron HQ. Ready to ask them to breech security and give them a highly untested beta of a machine they'd only seen in a commercial. Ratchet had more important things to worry about than something as stupid as... as _that_. Still... he and Clank might just have to revisit this topic in the more convenient future.

In the meanwhile, he stayed a step behind Clank as the two of them walked around what was, in a sense, a combination of a factory and an outlet store, though technically it was supposed to be a city. The population was certainly big enough. In the two hours that they'd been wandering around, Ratchet had seen more people in one day than he saw during a month's worth of trips into Kyzil. Some organics. Mostly robots. All employees of Gadgetron. The corporate stench was ripe.

It wasn't much better inside the damned place. The only thing that even remotely attracted Ratchet to the inner sanctity of the business was the heating. Damn, this planet was cold. It certainly didn't help that the place was decked out in cold, professional colors; blues and grays, with only the Gadgetron symbols scattered throughout the room and a few schools of fish in a tank on the other side of the room. Everything was pristine and tidy and orderly and neat; not a single beat was out of place. Maybe that was why Ratchet hated this place so much.

Nonetheless, he made his way through the cleanliness and to the robotic woman standing at her desk, eyes blinking with what Ratchet new were microscopic secretarial programs as she answered over a million calls at once. Truly a sophisticated AI. Ratchet moved to speak to her, taking a slight breath, before her sensors informed her of her guests and the droid's eyes went from a series of glowing green numbers to the typical bright blue that most robots had. Her smile was a pre-programmed honey-sweet as she acknowledged her – or Gadgetron's, rather – guests.

"Greetings!" The green-garbed robotic woman smiled politely at her guests, "and welcome to Gadgetron Galactic HQ! May I offer assistance?"

...Ratchet knew that voice. He'd know it freakin' anywhere, the voice that managed to help him cling to sanity just long enough to get off of that miserable little rock. The Helpdesk lady. This... this was her? This overworked piece of hardware had been the almost-friend he never quite had? In some ways it wasn't real and, in others, far too real. He couldn't speak. What DO you say to your saving grace approximately three seconds after meeting them?

Thank goodness for Clank. The robot didn't seem to know much about reading human emotions more complex than 'happy-sad-angry', but he did have one thing: impeccable timing, "Greetings, madam. We would like to request a meeting with..." Clank frowned for a moment, "Mr. Rospire, head of campaign management. Is he available?"

"Do you have an appointment?" The girl asked, and upon receiving a negative answer, as the duo never received any messages from their contact, "Hmm... very well. The next meeting with be at four PM, after the meeting with the new Hoverboard champion. I can pencil you in for the low cost of ten million bolts."

The steep price made Ratchet's eyes widen greatly, "T-ten mill- do we LOOK like we have that kind of money?!"

She simply blinked at the Lombax, frowning.

Ratchet groaned, "Forget it! We'd be in debt for the rest of our lives!"

Clank shook his head, "You are right. Our apologies for wasting your time, ma'am," She gave Clank a short nod, then returned to her work. The smaller 'bot turned to walk out, "Come on, Ratchet. We will have to think of something else."

Although externally calm, there was this air of dejection surrounding the robot. One that caused him to walk just the slightest bit slower, with his shoulder bolts hunched and his head titled to stare at the ground as he walked. And the bizarre thing was, Ratchet honestly didn't think he knew the message his posture gave, or even if he was entirely aware he was walking like that. The sight was... it was... heartbreaking, to be honest. Pitiful, even.

He was fully prepared to walk out after the robot when, from behind him, a feminine voice called his name, "Ratchet," He spun around, surprised. The woman's eyes were blue again, with a hint of mischievous intent and genuine concern, "As nice as it was listening to your ranting, I have to say I'm quite happy that you managed to find a friend."

Friend? He and Clank weren't really friends, per say. More like... partners. Co-conspirators against the Blargian corporate empire. But he wasn't going to explain that to her; it was a little weird, "Uh, yeah, thanks."

She smiled at him; the kind of smile he'd seen on holovision, given from a parent to a child, "Listen, sweetheart, if you really want to see Mr. Rospire, your best bet is to find some way to enter the hoverboarding race. The company's looking for a new face to plaster all over their new line of hoverboards, since Skid McMarxx retired. If I were you, I'd get your credentials together and find someway to contact our admissions hotline," Here, her smile turned apologetic, "Wish I could get you in, or I'd have already entered your name in the line-up."

Ratchet waved off the unspoken apology; she'd already offered more than enough info to make up for that, "Thanks for the help."

"Don't mention it," The smiling secretary waved as Ratchet walked off, "Just promise me you and that robot will take good care of each other. You always sounded like you could use a good friend."

Ratchet didn't answer; he just waved back and walked through the front door. His first, immediate thought was that Clank found somewhere to sit and wait for him... and he was absolutely right. Clank found a spot where he could look over the railing, into the deep ocean this facility was built over. His head was propped on top of said railing as he looked down into the waters. When Ratchet approached, he looked up at the Lombax with an expression Ratchet knew all too well: crushed hope. It made Ratchet pause for a split second.

Clank just looked down at the waters again, defeated.

Long silences weren't exactly anything new when it came to Clank. Comfortable silences that occurred when the two were traveling through space; angry silences back when they were fighting. He was more than used to it. But it was glaringly obvious that this silence... wasn't okay. It brought back memories of a shivering little kid, head buried in his knees, just wishing that somebody would break the damned silence that was choking him into submission. But there was nobody; not after...

Ratchet steeled his jaw and stared at the robot. No, this wasn't going to happen. Not if HE had anything to say about it. Keeping his eyes focused on Clank, Ratchet reached into his pants pocket while simultaneously breaking the damned silence, "Clank, I'm gonna need to borrow your infobot."

* * *

Meanwhile, in a luxurious hotel on Rilgar, a very stressed agent sighed, shrugging his shoulders as his masseuse dug her elbows into his back. He'd had it rough for the past few weeks, especially after crashing on that backwater nowhere planet with McMarxx. But now... now that was all behind him. All he needed to do was sit back, relax, and enjoy...

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Oh, for the love of-

He sighed, "Take five, dear," He tipped her generously – it had been a _really _good message so far – and answered his damned infobot. Why hadn't he turned this thing off again? With a bit of bitterness in his voice, he snapped, "This better be good or your fired!"

"I don't work for you!" Snapped back a voice that was painfully familiar. Hesitantly, the Rilgarian agent thought back to Aridia; Skid, that portable toaster oven, the sand sharks... oh, yeah. The Lombax kid. The one that got first place against four of the _best_ hoverboarders the galaxy had to offer?

Suddenly, the grin was back, "Well, hey there, kid! It's been a while, hasn't it? How's you and the toaster oven doing?"

"_CLANK_ and I are doing just fine," There was a hint of warning in his voice. The kind that said 'forget this name again and I _will_ find another agent'. Thankfully, that was quickly forgotten amidst the rest of his words, "But, anyways, I need a favor. We're on Kalebo III right now, and Gadgetron's holding this big race thing-y. I need in. Think you can do that?"

Ah, yes, the competition to find a replacement for Skid McMarxx as their hoverboarding spokesman. For someone like him, it was a simple piece of cake, "Don't worry about it, kid. But first, let's get one thing straight; I get fifty percent of the profit and merchandising rights."

"Fine," Ratchet rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Just get us in."

The gleeful smile on the agent's face widened, "Great! Just let me make a few calls and you're in. Get to the hoverboarding stadium by two this afternoon and they'll give you yer number. Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks," But the kid was distracted now. His attention had turned to the toaster oven- _Clank _sitting behind him, who looked utterly confused. Before the agent could get any context, however, the infobot shut itself off, concluding that the conversation had ended. Well, fine. He had four and a quarter more minutes until his massage session was resumed. He might as well get those arrangements out of the way...

* * *

It made sense in context.

Ratchet's plan was simple: win the race and get into Mr. Rospire's office as the new spokesperson of Gadgetron's Hoverboard line. Getting him accepted was no problem; they were allies with one of the most influential talent agents in the business and Ratchet was young and healthy; he was exactly what an advertisement team would want. All he needed was to win this race; relatively simple for someone like Ratchet, who had a better than average sense of balance and enough resourcefulness to outwit an army. The plan was relatively fool-proof.

But... what if he lost?

There was such confidence in his eyes that Clank did not dare doubt his plan aloud, but a nagging sense of fear in the back of his processing unit that just refused to go away. If they lost, there was no way to get into the section of the factory where his mother was. And if they could not do that... then she would be deleted. Once Drek realized that the man he put in charge of the job had split before it could be completed, somebody else would be deployed to do so. He was well aware that they were running out of time. Even waiting around for the race to start was-

His thoughts were interrupted when Ratchet's blaster appeared in front of his face. Clank blinked.

"What? I can't exactly race with this thing strapped to my waist. I'll get kicked out," Ratchet shook the thing a little, "And I don't think you can cause too much trouble with it, right?"

Clank wordlessly took the device, holding it in his hands for a moment. He had almost forgotten that Ratchet kept this thing on his belt. It quickly found a temporary new home within his storage compartment, right next to Ratchet's almost completely fixed wrench. He had decided that it was Ratchet's reward, to be presented to him at the end of their quest. It was funny, almost; both of Ratchet's weapons were in his possession. And yet, the distrustful Lombax looked completely at ease with this development. As if he did not care that Clank held his only means of defending himself.

...odd.

The rest of the day was spent preparing. Ratchet tuned his hoverboard, adjusting the Platinum Zoomerator he had won in Blackwater City. Clank made the most of his own time by making some final adjustments to the wrench and hacking into the ship's databank, looking for any useful information. What he found was nothing more than some history of travel and a warranty claim. This was a relatively new ship, after all. It sort of made sense, in an annoying sort of way.

Two o' clock could not come fast enough.

Ratchet receiving his number and heading to the starting line was a relatively simple process. There was a sincere wish (the dreaded return of THAT word) that Ratchet would do well. To which the Lombax gave a confident smirk.

Clank, as Ratchet's plus one, was given a seat free of charge. From his seat, he watched as the Lombax took his position, followed shortly by his competition. Some of which were testing androids. Ratchet's position was number eight of twenty. While the other positions were taken by those who looked to be general show-offs, Ratchet showed an almost professional attitude, confidence pouring off of his determined expression. A spark of hope ignited within Clank. Maybe, just maybe... they could do it. They could win this thing and save _her_. Maybe...

"Three... two... one... GO!"

The racers were off. Cameras posted all over the stadium caught the action as the group zoomed through the stadium, struggling to overtake the position ahead of them. It was almost too easy to recognize the numerous advantages Ratchet had. The Platinum Zoomerator, his enhanced balance, his opponents' focus on showing off rather than actual racing... he had a better chance at winning than Clank had initially suspected.

"Number five has the lead... but wait! Number seven closes in fast; he's determined to take the spot! In all my six weeks of commentating, I've never seen a racer that grimly determined!"

Sure enough, Clank's zoom revealed that Ratchet's face was set on that almost dark concentration. He was quickly overtaking the other racers, and was only a few cubit lengths away from overtaking his opponent. And then... they hit a speed ramp. Both five and Ratchet were sent flying into the air, the increased speed allowing them to pull a few tricks. Five landed perfectly. Ratchet's touch-down was a little shakier, but his sense of balance allowed him to quickly get back in the running. They kept moving; Ratchet was right next to five now, both of them struggling to outdo the other. After a series of short, show-offy tricks from both parties, five gave up on the whole 'outdoing' thing and rammed his board into Ratchet's, sending the Lombax flying back a few cubits. With a growl, he was back up, hot on his opponent's trail once again.

"OOH! That one looked like it hurt, folks! But wait. It seems number seven isn't quite down for the count! It'll take nothing less than a miracle for him to catch back up with number five, though."

Ratchet's ears perked and a dark smirk crossed his face. Adjusting his balance first, Ratchet leaned as far forward as he could go, sending the hoverboard forth at top speed for this final jump. It was surreal; Ratchet went launching off the final ramp at top speed, and Clank almost did not realize why until he spotted the high-up boost ring hovering above the stadium. It would have almost been impossible to hit. Almost. That was just enough for Ratchet to perform it, going flying through it as his speed increased dramatically, sending him spiraling towards the goal at startling speeds. He passed number five in a gust of wind and was thrown off his board shortly after reaching the goal.

"AND AN AMAZING PULL-BACK WIN FROM NUMBER SEVEN! EVERYONE GIVE A BIG HAND TO OUR WINNER, THE NEW REPRESENTATIVE OF GADGETRON HOVERBOARDS... RATCHET!"

The crowd went wild. Having thankfully landed twenty cubits below in water, Ratchet surfaced to do two things: spit out the water he had unintentionally swallowed and give a big grin to the crowd. Or, more specifically, Clank. Something the robot would not have normally suspected, had it not been for the words he mouthed.

_We won._

We won. Mother was saved! Clank tossed as big a smile as he could muster in return – the Lombax deserved it, really. He continued to grin as a small airship flew over the Lombax and helped to pull him up out of the water. Soaked, but overall much happier than normal. The ship circled around the stadium, allowing the audience a view of the victor. As they did, Clank kept his eyes glued to the shivering form. At least, until he passed the part of the stadium nearly parallel to Clank. Then the robot's eyes were drawn to something different. A Blargian.

An average, unsuspecting, if not large, Blargian citizen of Kalebo III. Wearing clothing to indicate an employ of Gadgetron... and pulling a pistol from the inside of said uniform, preparing for the next circle to reach him. It did not take Clank long to realize the intended target. There was only one person he could possibly be aiming for. For a second, he froze; as any robot would do. Then he did something he had never done before.

He acted without thinking.

The pistol Ratchet carried was not exactly good for long-range combat, but it still did its job rather nicely. A single shot hit the arm of the would-be assassin, causing him to cringe and gasp, dropping the would-be murder weapon. Pandemonium and havoc spread through the audience, as guards flocked the stadium, looking desperately for the shooter. Quickly, Clank packed the weapon within his chest compartment and made for an exit, using the panicking crowd to his advantage. To his credit, he looked just as scared and confused as anybody else rushing to leave. Nobody would suspect him to be the technical cause of all this chaos.

He did not worry much about Ratchet. The guards would make sure their champion got out unharmed.

Clank spent some time waiting for Ratchet by their ship. He had only began to become worried when a very alone Ratchet strolled up to the ship, looking just as distraught and panicked as any other organic. Before Clank could get a chance to explain, he began firing off questions, "What the heck happened in there?"

"There had been a Blargian assassin in the stands," Clank explained calmly; at this point, the excitement and fear had worn off somewhat, leaving only a numb ache in their place, "Thankfully, I managed to disable them before they could do any real damage to you or the crowd."

Ratchet exhaled deeply, expression conveying annoyance, "Oh, is that all?"

"Yes," Clank answered, and the belatedly realized the sarcasm in Ratchet's rhetorical question, "but I would still keep my senses sharp. Something tells me this will not be the last we see of this man."

"Well," Ratchet shrugged, "The only thing we have left to do is head up and ask this Roast Beef's-"

"Rospire's"

"Whatever," The Lombax waved him off, "Office and get that beta holo-thingy."

"Hologuise."

"Whatever," Ratchet then looked down at him, an expression of discomfort on his face as he extended a hand, "Want a ride?"

Clank blinked in slight surprise. His riding on Ratchet's back before had been out of pure convenience. But other than the would-be assassin, there was no danger at all on Kalebo III. They would not be late for their meeting. There was not a logical reason to offer. But, on an emotional level... Ratchet had come very close to being assassinated today. Perhaps that was getting to him? Or maybe it was the fact that Clank had dealt with it, ignoring the fact that there had been no risk to him personally. Either way, maybe there was more to this whole 'being carried' thing than Clank had realized at first. And maybe... maybe he did not mind it so much. With a small, subtle smile, Clank grasped onto the outstretched hand and snapped into place.

0.0004299 seconds faster. They were definitely getting used to this.

* * *

After passing by the secretary, who grinned at the new 'Hoverboard Spokesperson', and heading up an elevator, both Ratchet and Clank reached the floor where Mr. Rospire's office was located. The man was looking out over the city/factory, an out-there look on his face. He seemed... contemplative. Definitely a little strict. Almost sheepishly, Ratchet called out, "Sir?"

"Ah, there you are!" Grinned the old man, speeding over to the Lombax and robot and ushering them in, "Our new Hoverboard spokesperson. My apologies for that little, eh, mishap at the stadium. Looks like I need to upgrade our security forces."

Ratchet's eyes glimmered with the childlike knowledge of a secret, "That's okay, sir. Happens to the best of us."

"'Atta boy!" Rospire grinned almost too enthusiastically and pulled Ratchet into a separate studio, "Now, we just need to work out your contract. Shall we say... ten percent on foreign sales and fifteen percent on domestic?"

The Lombax blinked, "Sure...?"

"Great! Now, anything personal you'd like? Private trailer? Gigantic soda bottles? Hold this," The man shoved into Ratchet's arms a hoverboard, then stepped back with a camera and toyed with it until he got a good shot, "Smile!"

The bright flash of the camera blinded the Lombax just long enough for the man to grab his hand and lead him into another room: a small sound booth. He managed to gather his wits just enough to ask, "Actually, we sorta came here looking for a hologuise..."

"Done!" The man snapped, then tossed Ratchet the device and a piece of paper, "Just repeat those words into the microphone, please."

Ratchet squinted, reading the paper aloud, "'As a hoverboarding professional, I only board with the best. And the best board, by far, is Gadgetron.'"

"Incredible!" The man pulled him out of the booth, "We'll just tighten that up some, put some clips of you racing in there and bada bing bada boom! We've got a commercial! If we need you again, my people will be in touch with your people! Goodbye!"

"Bye..." Ratchet managed to mutter as he was pushed into the elevator. He took a moment to blink stupidly, "What just happened...?"

From his back, Clank answered with a monotone Ratchet couldn't exactly blame him for, "I... am not sure."

* * *

Halfway down, the elevator jammed.

"Ah, what?" Ratchet complained aloud, "And here I thought Gadgetron had the best engineer's in the galaxy. Damned hunk a' junk," Ratchet slammed his fist into the side of the elevator, just in time for it to start descending again at a dangerous pace. Knocked off balance, Ratchet stumbled back into the side of the elevator. He could only grasp a rail and scream as their descending rate increased to a speed where it was a struggle to stay standing.

Finally, they reached the ground floor and stopped. Breathing heavily, with his heart pounding, Ratchet took a moment to collapse to the floor and catch his breath before picking himself up and exiting the elevator. The lobby was mostly the same. Still with boring, cold colors. Still with those same fish, swimming around in circles. Still with Gadgetron logos EVERYWHERE. But there was one major difference; the assassin behind the desk, the help desk girl in his arms, an odd device at her neck.

Both heroes recognized it. How could they not, with Ratchet being a mechanic and Clank having an encyclopedia in his head? It was a jump key; a device that sent a quick, strong surge of electricity through engines for the purpose of testing them. So long as they were applied through some foreign cable, they never caused any electrical damage. Not like it would now, with the key pressed right up to her memory core. Still, the Helpdesk girl held a defiant look. The type that said she'd rather die than let this go down in that douche's favor.

It went ignored.

"Alright, wanted criminals 647 and 648," Growled the assassin/kidnapper, "Either the two of you surrender and come with me, or princess here gets it!"

Ratchet and Clank exchanged an uncertain look. Then Ratchet looked back at the help desk girl. She steeled her expression, her eyes changing from blue to that series of green symbols... his help desk scanner pinged, signifying a message. It was a subtle sound, one the rouge failed to notice as he brought the key dangerously close to the help desk girl's memory banks. Discreetly, Ratchet activated the device: one text message.

_There's a Walloper hidden in the Gadgetron logo on the opposite side of the desk. Just hit it once and it'll open._

Well, how damn clever.

"C'mon!" The Blargian snapped, "Get over here! NOW!" The key was brought dangerously close to touching her metallic plaiting. One could even see the sparks starting to form.

Sighing, Ratchet raised his hands, "Alright, we give. You win," He took several lazy steps towards the guy, hands still above his head. Behind him, a quiet voice asked what he was doing. In response, he whispered back, "Trust me," and situated himself in front of the desk, lowering his hands slowly as the man grinned and lowered the key, instead raising a weapon he'd been holding in his other hand. The same gun that would have killed Ratchet at the stadium, had Clank not interfered. Once his hands were out of the villain's sight, Ratchet hurriedly knocked once on the metallic symbol, causing the hidden compartment to open and release the Walloper into Ratchet's waiting hands. He grinned.

"Any last words?" The assassin asked after raising his pistol.

Ratchet thought for a moment, wondering what cheesy one-liner he could say before punching this guy's lights out. He then realized that was completely idiotic and simply said, "Nope," Before raising his fist and punching the guy hard in the face. Normally, this would have done zero damage. But the Walloper was a glove made of iron and steel. The Blargian was lucky to keep most of his teeth as he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

From Ratchet's back, Clank spoke up, "Well, your 'last words' certainly packed quite a punch," He then giggled that stupid giggle of his and Ratchet groaned aloud.

"Thanks, boys," The help desk girl nodded towards the two, then down towards the assassin, "I'll call the guards. This guy won't be going anywhere until he's too old to chew his own food without a pair of Gadgetron Substitute Teeth."

"You guys have your own brand of dentures?" Ratchet asked with a raised brow, then shook his head, "Never mind, I don't wanna know."

* * *

Sitting in their ship, Ratchet examined the hologuise, "This thing is pretty cool, huh Clank?"

"I suppose," The robot muttered, eyes narrowing as he scanned the thing, "but this device has a glaring flaw. In order to take the form of a specific type of robot, one needs a blueprint of it," The robot sighed, leaning back, "And a blueprint of my brethren is one of the few things my mother did not provide me with. This... is troubling," He sighed, resting his head on one hand while the other supported it at the elbow, "We may have to find the original designer of these 'bots in order to get a copy."

"Blueprints, huh?" Ratchet's brows furrowed. That sounded... familiar. Familiar like... like a set of blueprints for some robot he was sure he knew somewhere. Quickly, he moved forward so that his hands could fish around his pockets, "You mean like this?"

"Huh? Let me see that," The design was snatched out of his hands as Clank scanned over it, disbelief slowly taking over his face, "Ratchet, this is it! Tell me, where did you find this?"

The Lombax leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms behind his head, "The Blargian Technical Station. A scientist there had this design in his desk. I thought it looked familiar so I picked it up," He looked back at Clank, "Didn't realize 'til about now that the design synchs with yours almost perfectly. Your mom made a few changes, but other than that..."

"Well," Clank smiled, "You just saved us a lot of critical time, Ratchet. I cannot thank you enough."

"Don't mention it," The Lombax shrugged, placing his hands on the steering mechanism, "After all, what are friends for?"

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: This chapter will forever haunt my nightmares. Not because it was difficult to write or bad – I actually kinda like it – but because I almost didn't get it done in time. Just like a certain snow-covered chapter. Also, a fair warning: next week's chapter MIGHT be late, because I'm graduating from High School on Tuesday and the weekend will be packed with preparation. And I think my parents are gonna make me get a haircut. I hate haircuts.

And happy Memorial Day. May our fallen rest in peace.

What did I do good on?: Besides managing to get it done in the cusp of time? Well, this may sound odd coming from someone who's publicly claimed to have no sense of humor, but I like the section with Mr. Rospire. I found it funny.

What did I fail on?: Have I ever mentioned my completely rational and totally consuming fear of Mary-Sues? I loathe the fact that I gave the help desk girl as big a role as I did. It disgusts me, despite the fact that she's not really an OC and won't appear again in this story after this chapter.

Random Question for Reviewers: Do you fear the Mary-Sue like I do?


	20. Quartu II: Family

_Clank. Clank._

A twitch of the ears.

_Clank. Clank._

A deep exhale.

_Clank. Clank._

"Will you STOP fidgeting?" The Lombax finally snaps, ears bent down in annoyance, "She's FINE. We've only been gone for a few hours. Something tells me the Blarg won't figure out that the guy meant to delete her has left that quickly."

To his side, sitting completely still for the first time since take off, Clank stared up at him stoically, "You do not know that."

"And neither do you," Retorted the Lombax, keeping his hands steady on the steering mechanism, "So just relax, alright? We're almost there – look, there's Quartu, right down there. We'll be landing in less than a minute, just calm down, okay?"

Oddly enough, Ratchet's ramblings seemed to calm the robot down, at least a little; instead of the nervous fussing he had done throughout the entire trip, Clank instead sat completely still as Ratchet brought the ship in for a gentle landing. He remained silent as they exited their spacecraft, Ratchet pulling Clank onto his back as per the now normal routine. He DID finally say something as the two approached the entrance to the part of the facility that created robots, where Clank let himself down as Ratchet fished around his pockets for the hologuise beta, smirking in triumph as he worked the device onto his belt.

"Just hold the blueprint in front of the device and allow it to scan over the blueprint. You might want to scan over me as well... just to get a color reference, although I very much doubt it will be necessary. So long as the hologuise makes you look remotely like those things and sends the proper verification code."

The Lombax gave the robot a nod, following through with his instructions to the letter. When the device activated, a shimmering shell appeared for a brief moment around Ratchet before the form of a robot appeared. The inaccuracy of the robotic body was almost laughable; it had been shrunken to fit Ratchet's personal measurements. The head was the correct size, but the body was too small and it was incredibly awkward looking. Still, it was transmitting the correct codes and would fool the weak visual recognition software that his 'siblings' possessed, so there was really no reason to complain. Still, when Ratchet asked how he looked, the robot could not help but laugh.

"What?" Ratchet asked, his voice slightly distorted by the device to sound more robotic, "Are my servos off center or something?"

"No," The robot giggled, feeling a little of the pressure lifting off his shoulders, "You are... believable. To my less than intelligent brethren, at any rate. This will work fine."

The robotic hologram blinked impartially, even though underneath Ratchet was probably smirking confidently, "Oh, will it?" His sarcasm rang out from under the synthetic form.

"Indeed. Just to be careful, I will have to ask you to move slowly and avoid anything that would make you stand out."

The stoic robot hologram nodded, taking a few cautious steps forward as if getting used to its own legs. From deep within the heart of the pseudo-metal person, Ratchet gave a startled gasp, "Yeesh, this is really weird. I mean, like, I can see stuff, but it's sorta... blurred, ya know?"

Clank did not know. Not until he felt Ratchet pick him up – it was especially hilarious this time, as his body seemed to go partway through the holographic hand – and clicked into place on Ratchet's back. Immediately afterwords, the hologuise sensed the new mass and expanded slightly to compensate; the two must have looked even more ridiculous combined. Or maybe it had not changed at all. Considering that Clank was now part of the costume, he could no longer see what it looked like. He could now, however, see what Ratchet saw; a faded gray curtain that obscured the world around them, at best drowning out colors and at worse obscuring vision of more than a few cubits at a time. That would have been troubling, had it not been for the internal scanners and maps Clank possessed.

The duo moved in slowly, one step at a time, until they seemed to get a rhythm down. In a whisper that sounded to bystanders like the slow hum of a machine in need of cool-down, Clank gave directions; simplistic ones that Ratchet would be able to follow with relative ease. In turn, the Lombax kept silent, allowing Clank to do all the communicating and directing. He didn't particularly like the situation; barely being able to see was a pain, on top of the restricted movement this stupid hologram forced him to adapt.

It's only for a little while, he repeated again in his head, it's only for a little while. It's only for a little while. It's only for-

"Ratchet," The robot on his back whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Look to your right," And so Ratchet did, turning his whole body so that the awkwardness of the robot's head turning in a way it really shouldn't would not be apparent to the other robots in the area. What he saw made him blink in surprise; outside of an observation window, no doubt where Blargian overlords once watched over the workers of this factory, before it became an automatic process, to see the assembly line where large, unfeeling robot arms stoically created lifeless synthetic forms. There was something... soulless about the process that made Ratchet hold his breath. How could someone who works so carelessly on machines make something as precise, as advanced as the robot on his back? Why did she not put such care into her other creations?

Why would she even create Clank in the first place?

Oblivious to the pondering in Ratchet's head, Clank continued, "Just over on the other side of the facility is the Internal Defense Center. If we have the time... would you mind escorting me there so that I may transfer control of the facility's defenses to... to my mother?"

Had Ratchet not been just as paranoid of getting caught as Clank, he might have turned to look at the robot in surprise. Of course, it was a sensible decision; she'd be able to defend herself and Clank could stop worrying. But the way he'd said it... it was almost as if he expected Ratchet to decline. Why would he? Unable to reassure Clank with a look, he made his voice soft and gentle, "Of course. Yeah."

"Excellent," The robot still sounded uncertain... "There is just one problem, though..." Ratchet bit his lip, desperate not to just make a sound of annoyance. Of COURSE there was a catch, "The room is guarded by a pair of sentry bots, and I do not have the correct codes to enter. Which means..."

The Lombax bit his lip, unable to stop himself from instinctively turning back his head to look at the robot, "I'll have to fight my way through," There was a pause; Clank fidgeted against his back nervously. Under his holographic cloak, Ratchet found himself smiling sadly. There was something wonderful about this; about being so afraid for someone else that even the most stoic and confident of people cracked. What would it be like to feel like that; to have somebody else feel that way about you? Hoping to sound encouraging, Ratchet continued, "It won't be a problem. Really."

"And... you are certain?" Clank asked again, a hint of doubt in his vocals.

Ratchet rolled his eyes, "YES. If the specs you've given me for these guys are right, they should be complete pushovers, anyways."

* * *

Ratchet managed to surprise Clank yet again with his accurate prediction. The robots produced in this factory were in... less than stellar condition. All apart of HER plan, he supposed. They approached with the help of the hologuise, keeping in-character until just the right moment. Then they ambushed, Ratchet deactivating the guise and hopping onto one of the other robot's backs, using it as cover as he shot the other robots who, without the shielding they were SUPPOSED to have, went down easily. The one Ratchet had used as a shield then received a shot to the head for all his trouble. He had to admit, for all of the time he spent worrying, the actual process of infiltration went much smoother than he would have thought.

So now here he was, his core processes intertwining with the facilities as he transferred files at FTL speeds. The process was thirty-percent complete. Even with his admittedly advanced skills, it would take a while before his mother was in full control of her own factory. Her prison. A dark emotion swept over him, bringing with it thoughts of horrible origin. Quickly the feeling was squelched by more logical emotion; what use was rage when the threat was about to pass?

Forty-five percent.

"Hey... Clank?" The Lombax was leaning against a nearby wall; he was supposed to be keeping lookout, but the robot supposed he was being vigilant, from the way his ears kept twitching with every movement Clank himself made. He had been awfully quiet since they had broken into the control tower, so the sudden noise surprised the robot. When he turned to look at the Lombax, Ratchet was gazing down at the floor, eyes closed. His head then turned towards the robot, eyes opening only partway as if... as if they did not have the energy to open any further. In truth, his entire form looked unbelievably tired. Clank made a note to allow some time for rest after they made certain that his mother was alright.

Sixty percent.

"Can I ask you a question?" All Clank responded with was a nod, curiosity overtaking him, "What... what's it like having a mom?"

Of course, Clank thought as he brought a hand to his forehead. Ratchet was a teenager, living all on his own when the two of them had met. Thinking that he had come from a typical family – or, perhaps, even any type of family – would have been naïve of him. Heavy... pity? Sympathy? Something of that nature crept into his central processor, and he had to be careful not to let a bit of it leak as he answered, "I do not think I am the best person to answer that question, Ratchet. I have never actually met my mother."

To this, the Lombax simply blinked. Confusion clouded his eyes; a discipline perfected from years of solitude keeping it from reaching his face, "Never? I don't understand," His form seemed to shrink- oh, he was just sliding down to the floor, "How can you care so much for someone you've never even met?"

Actually... that was a fairly good question. Memories and memos and just random things in his memory banks zipped through his processor at once as it tried to formulate an answer to the inquiry. It took much more concentration than required to get it back on track. He frowned.

Sixty-five percent. That certainly slowed them down.

But Ratchet was still awaiting an answer, eyes wide and curious. The child-like desire to learn, to know. It made him sad, for some undistinguished reason. Personally putting a block on his memory banks – another data flood like that would most certainly end badly – he responded as best as he could, "To be honest, I am not so sure why myself. But she created me. She did everything she could to prepare me for the journey ahead. True, she created me to defeat Drek, but..." He could not bring himself to continue that sentence.

Eighty percent. Complete silence.

"It must be nice," Ratchet commented finally, pulling his legs into his chest as though attempting to hug himself. He looked his age, for once; in that moment there was no doubt that Ratchet was just a scared teenager, sixteen years old at the latest. Comparing this image of him to others in his memory bank, this... just did not fit. Hesitantly, still careful to keep his connection, Clank picked himself up and waddled towards the Lombax, placing a single hand on his shoulder. There was a moment of absolute stillness... Ratchet stiffened briefly under his touch, then stayed in that position for an indeterminable amount of time. And then... nothing. They stayed like this until Clank's internal systems alerted him that the transfer was complete; the factory's defenses were firmly in the hands of his Mother.

When it was time for them to leave, Ratchet did not make a sound. Just smiled sadly – not even attempting to hide it – and picking him up. It was as if that moment had never happened. And, until he could fine some way to make sense of what just happened, Clank was perfectly fine with that.

* * *

The walk from the control tower to the factory's production control was not a terribly long one. In truth, the entire factory was only as large as it needed to be, with just barely enough room for the assembly lines, testing sites and storage areas. The corridors were closed all interconnected; all control centers were in towers high above the facility, allowing for more ground space. The place was designed for efficiency, and might have been one of the most productive factories in Blargian possession... had it not been run by HER, the only one who knew the truth about the Blarg. The whole truth. Clank's... mother.

Wow, that STILL felt weird to think. Clank has a mother.

The current lack of conversation was an unfortunate precursor to thought, and Ratchet kept going back to the talk he had with Clank. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _FAIR_. He'd practically had to raise himself, no love or affection or even as much as a smile from most people. He'd had NOTHING. So how did Clank get this lucky? What did he do to deserve a family to love? Hell, he didn't have any idea what the word even meant – figuratively, anyways – and he was still privileged with the emotion. It just... it wasn't FAIR.

A part of Ratchet just wanted to remove his stupid disguise – he'd managed to get a glimpse at it while passing a window and it was less than impressive – and go full-fledged commando on the guards they passed. But no, that would be counterproductive, and even if they weren't horribly put together, Ratchet was not deluded enough to believe that he could take a whole battalion charging at him. He'd only managed to take out those guards at the defense tower through sheer instinct. And besides... Clank's weight was becoming a lot more noticeable. If he was tired enough where carrying Clank was troubling him, then there was no way he was going to last another fight. He'd just have to be careful.

"Make a left turn here. This part of the factory is where the robot's are created... a lot of it is automated, not as many guards here. With luck, we will not run into a single one."

As if on cue, one of the security droids rounded the corner, just narrowly avoiding a collision with the cloaked duo.

"Er," Clank at least had the decency to sound embarrassed, "At least, not too many."

Ignoring the robot, Ratchet continued onward, wary of the passing 'bots. Had they been organic, they might have turned to the odd one out – always the odd one out – and wondered why he was here. Thank goodness for the limited sense of perception these robots seemed to have. Still, the feeling of not fitting in was one that simply slapped the Lombax in the face.

The 'robot' that acted as their disguise sharply turned corner after corner. Ratchet wasn't even paying attention to their direction anymore; another sure sign of his exhaustion. Even when letting Clank guide, he'd always at least have an idea of their cardinal direction. He'd even made the mistake of stumbling at one point and, while they were alone at the time, Clank had made absolutely certain that he knew not to mess up like that again. But still, his voice was calm and stoic... it was quite a surprise when, near the end of their course, the robot suddenly and loudly spoke out, "STOP! Here, we are here. Turn left and enter the lift. It will take us right up to Mother... or at least, where we can access her."

"Awesome," The exhaustion crept into his voice, and Ratchet quickly slapped his forehead. Luckily, Clank seemed to not notice, or decided it wasn't worth bringing up or whatever, because he remained silent as they crept into the elevator. Feeling relatively safe, Ratchet deactivated the hologuise. He might regret it, but with the size of these towers, there couldn't be more than one or two of those giant robots running around. One or two, he could handle with relative ease. There wasn't anything that could possibly happen that he couldn't handle.

_Ding._ The doors opened, and Clank let out a startled gasp.

The single Blargian technician, wires in hand, looked back at the two with a shocked expression. It was obvious, from his clothing and that indefinable sense of _this guy did something wrong_ that the man in front of him was exuding from every pore of his body that he wasn't supposed to be in here. He wasn't, and now something was broken. Something, most likely, involving Clank's mother. Subconsciously, Ratchet's whole form started shaking.

How dare he. How_ DARE _he! With an agility Ratchet was entirely unaware his tired body possessed, the Lombax pounced, leaping across the large hole in the floor. He barely registered Clank, startled on his back, squirming around, nor the startled, scared cry of the Blargian now lying on the ground. Instinct, a protective urge came over him and he bared his teeth threateningly. A memory surged back; a large child, almost a teenager, being pinned by an enraged six year old, unfurled claws digging deep marks into his wrists... the claws were gone now, but the principle of the urge remained the same. A friend in need. An injured Markazian. A robot in worry. _Protect_.

A hand on his shoulder, "Ratchet," The Lombax looked over, breathing harder to keep himself from simply pressing his hands down on the Blargian's throat... but Clank's expression, though neutral, spoke clearly. The boy was innocent. Let him go.

Reluctantly, Ratchet let him up, grasping his wrist firmly after they were both standing and yanking the wires out of them, being sure that his snarling scowl spoke all he needed to say, but speaking anyways, "Get out of my sight."

The brat was all too happy to comply, and Ratchet scoffed. He wasn't angry anymore – seriously, what had come over him just then? – but now the brat just seemed pathetic. He was at least a head taller than Ratchet, and probably just as strong, but he chose to cower under an attack made instinctively. How underwhelming. If more Blarg were as easily scared as that one, then they would win this 'war' no problem. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, his attention turned to the severed wires in his hands. Then to Clank, staring up at him, the unspoken question in his eyes.

Ratchet gulped down... something, then nodded, "Yeah, I can fix it. Just sit tight."

Reattaching the wires wasn't as hard as Ratchet had thought. He'd been worried at first that they'd need some kind of soldering device to fix the ruined cables, but he managed to make do with some duct tape left lying around. Gotta love duck tape. Clank just sat back and watched patiently, not intervening at any point. It was kind of unsettling – even when Ratchet was in his element, Clank usually had felt the need to give some sort of input. But he managed to tune the robot out of his brain long enough to work it all out. As he worked, he could see it – the total network of nerves that made up the AI in control of the factory, the intricate system of technology that allowed the factory to become a living, breathing vessel for this consciousness. The mind of Clank's creator. A blueprint spread out on his brain, showing him how it was possible. He wasn't even certain how he knew some of these things – he just knew.

Except it still wasn't working. These wires, in specific, connected Clank's mother to a monitor in the room. She couldn't speak. She had no vocal processor. But if he could successfully hook this up, then they could talk with her. She could hear and understand them and see them and perhaps even feel them, but she couldn't talk and that must be so frustrating for her. Her own son, the child she'd created at the expense of hundreds, perhaps thousands of security droids, and she couldn't even speak with him. Ratchet wasn't even going to pretend that he couldn't understand how damned aggravating that must be.

In a fit of annoyance all his own, Ratchet slammed a fist into the side of the console, and immediately the screen booted up. Will wonders never cease?

The screen, large and green, blinked blankly for a few heartbreaking seconds before three letters appeared on it, "Son_"

"Mom?" The robot asked, stepping forward some. He had never seemed so nervous, so concerned. A touch of jealousy flooded through Ratchet, and he scoffed half-heartedly as he moved out of the way. No sense in ruining this touching family moment with his very existence, right?

"You have done well_" The words were typed smoothly, not even the slightest hint of hesitation. Ratchet looked down at his bare feet. Idly, he wondered how much dirt had become stuck to them during this whole misadventure. How long had it been since he'd last bathed, anyways? Not that he could do so very often on Veldin anyways, thanks to water rations, but he knew it'd been a while.

Clank let a ghost of a smile cross his face, eyes glistening proudly, "I tried, mom."

Ratchet's gut curled into itself. When was the last time he'd ate? Um... yesterday? Two days ago? Well, it couldn't have been recently. It HAD to be hunger gnawing at his insides. What else could it possibly be.

The next few words were typed out with haste, as if she knew she could not waste anymore time with small talk, "There is still more to do_"

"I know."

A new sound alerted them to an infobot making its way through the assembly line where, supposedly, new robots came through, being sent down the chute that was behind them and to transports, where they were sent anywhere they needed to go. Looking at it like that, Ratchet couldn't help but joke, "Hey, look, a sister!" And took the pointed glare Clank sent him in response as a sure sign of the first 'not funny' joke he'd shared with the robot. First, and maybe last. The thought both made him proud and sad, though he couldn't say why.

The infobot expanded and commenced playback of a pre-recorded message received thirty minutes ago – just as they were leaving Kalebo III.

* * *

"_Greetings!" The ugly mug of Supreme Executive Chairman Drek appeared on the screen, "My fellow Blarg, there is good news abound today. The planet we have painstakingly created with the help of quite a few people across the galaxy, New Orxon, is now 100% complete! We are currently taking calls, making reservations for spots on the planet's surface. Remember, our current occupancy limit is 6,000,000,000 people, and spots are filling up fast!" He coughed, "Only one obstacle remains. Care to see what it is?"_

_The camera then turned to look out of the ship's viewport, revealing... Veldin._

"_This is Veldin: a desert wasteland of a planet that just so happens to occupy the most perfect orbit in the solar system. Considering its small population of – what, like, twenty people? – and its blasphemous appearance, I'm certain that nobody would miss it. Therefore, we have the perfect solution."_

_Again, the camera panned, showing a large... ring, with a laser hanging off of it._

"_Behold, the Deplanetizer! With this little beauty, the eyesore that is Veldin will soon exist no more! We'll be moving this beautiful device into orbit soon enough, so stay tuned to watch the destiny of the Blargian people unfold! See you then!"_

* * *

As soon as the infobot finished its message, it retreated back into the unknown corners of the factory where SHE must have hidden it. A good thing to, because as soon as the shock of the message faded, anger replaced it in Ratchet's chest. Once again, his fist found the wall as he seethed aloud, "That- that BASTARD. How dare he? How DARE he?!" That same urge came over him again. _Protect. Protect._ Because, no matter how many bad memories the place held, it was still home. And was he supposed to expect that it was a coincidence that Drek chose his planet, of all planets? It couldn't possibly be that simple.

Clank's hand on his arm pulled Ratchet out of his rage. The robot had managed to scrap together an expression that conveyed concern, and he gently pulled Ratchet down to sit, "Ratchet, it will be alright. We will stop him."

"It's not that," Ratchet answered, truthfully, "I-I haven't been taking this seriously, and now, like, three planets are dead and mine's next. So, so stupid..." His head found his hands, and he allowed himself to curl into a fluffy little ball. Calm down, an internal voice told him. Breath in, breath out. In. Out. In. Out... why was Clank so quiet? Peeking his head up, Ratchet found the robot sitting by his side, hand still on his arm... smiling, "What the hell are you smiling about?"

Clank's look softened at his words – damn it, they were too soft, weren't they? – and simply replied, voice as low as Ratchet's, "This is the Ratchet that I have always known was there."

"What?" The Lombax asked, smiling sadly as he joked, "Was there another Ratchet around that I'd missed?" But he could understand. Clank saw something, at some point during this quest. Something that had kept him close, even as he constantly tried to shove the other away. It was why they weren't fighting anymore; why their fights had been so painfully one-sided. And, as much as Ratchet wanted to shut it away and pretend it didn't exist... he couldn't. He just couldn't pretend not to care anymore.

"Our next step should be to find that laser," Clank spoke aloud, and Ratchet nodded in agreement.

He turned back to the green screen, "It'll probably be with Drek's fleet. Er, do you mind, ma'am...?"

A second later, Clank spoke up again, "I have received their current coordinates. Thank you, mother," he smiled up at her and, while Ratchet's guts still tugged painfully, it wasn't quite as bad this time. Then Clank said, "I will try and make you proud."

Neither of them waited for a response. Ratchet grasped the little robot's hand and they exited out of the emergency chute Clank had originally used to escape. Neither of them saw the too late text on the large screen behind them.

"You already have_"

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' notes: Yeah, this wasn't worth a three-week wait. I'm sorry, things have just been hectic on my end. First graduation, then my allergies started acting up and, after a few nights of insomnia, my parents finally wised up and got me allergy meds. Then my brain fried for a while... I didn't even know what day it was until, like, last Wednesday. Then I finally got around to finishing the chapter. Hopefully, it gave you your fix of fluff.

Parent fluff and sad, family related angst in this chapter. I hope it is acceptable.

What did I do good on?: I actually really like the scene where Ratchet attacks that technician boy. In my opinion, Lombaxes are very, very instinctual creatures, and probably have to train to resist base urges like that. However, in Ratchet's situation... yeah. Also, Ratchet's been declawed. But that's a whole 'nother can of worms.

What did I fail on?: Not finishing this chapter on time. -_-

Random question for reviewers: What is your favorite Lombax-related headcannon?


	21. Drek's Fleet: Weight

If there had ever been a doubt of Ratchet's commitment to his cause – founded or not – it had been completely wiped from his central processing unit as the two worked together to study the diagram of typical Blargian fleet formations, looking for weak points and places where infiltration would be easiest. Enemy patrol routines and weapon analysis. Everything they would need to know in order to infiltrate the Blargian fleet and destroy that laser.

The Deplanetizer, as it was called, was powerful, its max energy capacity weighing in at around 5.0x10^34 joules. More than enough power to blow Veldin off the intergalactic map. That is all Clank knows about the device. That and that he cannot let such an event come to past. Not only because his mother desires him to; not only because it would be the biggest victory in his quest to save the galaxy from the Blarg; but because of Ratchet. Because of the sadness and mourning that had gripped him when he learned of his planet's fate. Because of the determination that crept into his eyes. Because... because it was his home.

Clank took another look at the diagram.

"Since they are not expecting an attack, they will most likely be in position Delta-A413," The robot spoke aloud, tracing over the formation with his hands, "There will be a Landing Craft near the rear of the ship, where we should be able to infiltrate without much resistance. From there, it is just a matter of ship-hopping via teleporters placed throughout the fleet until we find our target."

Ratchet nodded, eyes burning with a single-minded desire to protect, "Yeah, alright. How will we know when we find it?"

For an organic... unless they knew exactly what they were looking for, there was no way to tell it apart from any other machinery the Blarg might have lying around. For a robot, though, it was a simple matter of scanning its energy readings. This thing was going to require far more power than anything else the Blarg could possibly have. Once on-board, you could hack into the ship's computer and perform an all-out scan of the entire ship. The method, granted, did not sound very efficient, but it would not do them any good to simply follow the fleet to Veldin; by then, it might be too late to stop them. Not that this plan was foolproof either, but... it was their best bet. They talked it over, weighed the pros and cons... they _cooperated_ to find the most efficient route, and this was the end result. They would see if it worked. A large part of him... hoped that it would.

Once he had explained how it would work, the on-board navigation computer beeped, sending invisible signals to its robotic ignition system telling him that they were approaching their destination. It seemed that Ratchet recognized the signal as well, because he moved from examining the diagrams to taking over for the autopilot, gripping the steering mechanism firmly and straightening his posture in preparation.

Moments later, the entire Blargian fleet was spread out in front of them.

Here, Clank could not help but sit completely rigid and tense, watching with eyes tuned to catch every detail. The ship was, in all technicality, an ally; it would not be attacked unless they gave reason to. Still, he could not quite help but count the fighters – twelve – flying just below them, almost anticipating a possible attack. Nothing less than pure relief filled him as he watched them simply fly past, not even so much as scanning them. Almost immediately after, he wondered why he was so relieved. Technically, this was the ship of a superior officer. Of COURSE they would not waste their time scanning their craft. Still...

"_Alert: Your ship's registry does not have the required security clearance for landing. Please submit the security code in the next sixty seconds or your vehicle will be vaporized."_

Without putting much thought into the action, Clank sent the launch bay codes his mother had given him. The response was almost immediate; the landing craft in front of the opened its bay doors, happily receiving the two intruders as Ratchet directed them in, carefully. His skill as a pilot had improved tremendously, Clank also noted. He was not as focused on the piloting this time, his eyes scanning the fighters flying in predetermined paths around the fleet. Yet his driving did not suffer the least bit for it. If anything, it was... professional.

Pulling into the loading bay, Clank stared out the viewport as Ratchet gently lowered their ship down. From the glass walling of the loading bay, he could clearly see the Blarg's new planet. Oddly enough, his processor pulled the image of a poorly created quilt from his memory banks. Ocean blue and forest green and desert tan covered the surface in haphazard patches, poorly sewn together. Pieces of other, dying planets pieced together awkwardly. It was... disgusting.

"Clank?" Ratchet asked, brow raised.

Pulled out of his stupor by the Lombax's voice, Clank shook his head, berating himself for getting lost in his thoughts. While simultaneously beginning the hacking process, Clank stared up at Ratchet and asked, "Yes."

"You, uh... spaced out for a moment there," The Lombax stated, all body language prompting some sort of response. When he received none, he sighed under his breath and said, "Uh, never mind. Just... come on. We have to keep moving and I'm not the one with the built in map."

Right. Clank did not really respond – maybe a distant yes or okay – but other than that kept his focus on his hacking. Scan was twenty percent complete... fifty... eighty... scan complete. There was no sign of the necessary energy draw on this ship. Not that he expected that particular outcome. It would have been far too convenient. Once that was done, he spoke aloud, "Upon that platform to the right is a teleporter pad that will bring us to the missile cruiser. We will continue our search there."

* * *

Security Android-5325 blinked impassively as its patrol partner, Security Android-5322, walked a little too close to the automatic door separating the security shield it was guarding from the room its partner was patrolling. For the fifth time, it sent a request to its partner to please keep away from the doorway. Of course, it was not annoyed with its partners behavior. The route it had been given directed its partner right by the door, but its own directive was to not allow this door to open unless somebody was passing through. Since its partner was not passing, it was nothing more than wasteful for it to open the door each time it passed. A beat of silence followed. Not that the bot expected any noise. Neither of them, nor any of their brethren (if such a word could be used to described the unfeeling work relationship this particular droid had with the robot that came off the assembly line mere minutes before it did), possessed vocal processors.

After a length of time, the door remained closed. Android-5325 assumed that its message finally got through to its brother. Then the door again. The robot guardian of the force shield almost sent the message for a sixth time before his antennae caught a completely different signal. This was Security Android-9999, who was being transferred to the Dreadnaught. The robot waved.

Security Android-5325 waved back, before opening the force field for its brother. It would keep it down until it got the return code signaling that it must turn the shield back on. The return code never came.

In its place was a clear, hot shot melting through its chest. It immediately tried to send a warning to the rest of its brothers, but a familiar code blocked it. 9999. As was pre-programmed, 5325 raised its arm, a virus, being coded in the hurried seconds of death, making its way across invisible airways and towards this... this defect. The defect must be destroyed. The... defect...

Ratchet stared at the 'bot, head tilted to the side as it appeared to reach out for... something. Then it simply fell limp to the ground. Behind him, a completely different 'bot lay in a crumpled heap. Had it... had it been reaching out for help? A wave of guilt ran through him before he angrily squashed it down. These things served Drek. Now wasn't the time to get all sympathetic.

Clank was... a little too silent.

"Hey," Ratchet called, keeping his voice low; one never knew where a hidden microphone might be on a ship like this, "You okay?"

"Pardon me, Ratchet," The robot spoke, seemingly not at all broken up, "Just dealing with a weak little virus. Nothing to worry about."

The Lombax shrugged, his shoulders suddenly a tad lighter, "If you say so."

* * *

It was with a hasty whisper that Clank interrupted their progress, "Ratchet, stop!"

"Hmm?" The Lombax would have looked back at the robot, if that would not have looked weird with their hologuise, "What's up?"

"Can you hear that? That... barking in the distance?" Ratchet scoffed, almost asking if the question was rhetorical. Of COURSE he could hear it. He'd heard it for a while now, actually. Since the teleporter pad had brought them to this strange, oversized ship. The Dreadnaught, Clank had called it? Whatever. Taking his answer for positive, Clank continued, "Those are the sounds of Lupine Detection Units. Basically, they... recognize based on whether your image is imprinted in their memory banks. And seeing how we currently look-"

Ratchet finished for him, bitterness icing over his voice, "Our disguise is useless," Well, that was just GREAT. Just freakin' great. Now what where they supposed to do? The hologuise gave them free access to security checkpoints, so long as they did not arouse suspicion in it. Having to chase off these... Lupine things would blow their cover. What were they supposed to do?

After a few moments of thinking, it came to Ratchet. Deactivating the guise, and being mindful of possible cameras, Ratchet shifted in his harness until Clank got the cue and removed himself, landing on the floor with an almost too loud thud. He did not question the move aloud, but his eyes held all the inquiry he was holding back. Then, Ratchet explained. It was by no means a brilliant plan – in fact, it was what some might call 'obvious' – but Clank seemed impressed, mouth dropping slightly as he took in the plan, then nodding in ascent. The weapon was handed over, hologuise re-engaged, and Ratchet was off, walking into a room of security 'bots and crazed dogs alone. He waited for a moment or two, giving Clank time to set up, before bursting into the room, doing all he could to attract attention under the name 'Security Android-FFDD'. An obvious defect. Live bait.

First, the lupine units – mechanized guard dogs – noticed him, growling loudly and running towards the disguised organic. Following shortly after were the much larger androids, but they did not concern Ratchet as much. Thanks to Clank's mom, they were as good as useless. The same, however, could not be said about the Lupines. They charged after him with hesitation, forcing the disguised Lombax back as droids chased him out of the room and into the hallway. Quick as he could, he turned the corner and pressed his body flat against the wall, closing his eyes tight at the increasingly familiar sounds of a blaster firing. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Ratchet lost count rather quickly, instead focusing on the feeling of teeth digging into his lower lip, on the unnoticeable droplet of crimson that made an odyssey of a journey down.

Moments later, the shooting stopped, and Ratchet heard his name being called above the roaring silence. There was a pause, a moment where Ratchet chose to suck on the miniscule blood flow from his lips as opposed to responding to Clank, before turning the corner and walking into a gore scene – starring an all-robot cast.

Strange, how innocent Clank looked amidst the carnage, despite the gun in his hand.

* * *

It was not hard to become worried.

Realistically, it was ridiculous; they had only been on a few ships by the point they had reached the Light Cruiser. But as they continued on, Clank took the initiative to hack into nearby ships using telecommunication orbs and network relays used by his brethren for broadcasting messages across the fleet and... found no sign of the correct energy readings. Even though he and Ratchet had only explored three or four ships, he had scanned nearly twenty. None of them had the Deplanetizer aboard.

In addition to this, Ratchet was beginning to get impatient.

It was not logical, for him to become frustrated with a failing search for the weapon that would destroy his home, but it was beginning to effect his skill levels. Even with his heightened senses and Clank's warnings, he had still managed to get himself hurt in that last battle against a full pack of Lupines. They were forced to take a short break as Ratchet bound his bleeding foot, unwilling to spare nanotech that they had picked up earlier on what he called a 'minor' wound. And yes, it was minor. Barely bleeding, in fact. But it was still unnerving to see the drying red liquid that was still caught in the fur surrounding the bandaging.

Actually... now that he looked at the organic, Clank could make out quite a few minor wounds hiding under his fur. Small scratches from walking through tall brush and bruises from the amount of tumbling they did. It was becoming borderline painfully difficult to ignore the way his face contorted when he had to put too much pressure on his left leg, or how he subconsciously held and rubbed his shoulder when there was nothing to occupy his opposing arm. All minor wounds in the long run, but put together like that...

And the oddest thing of all was that Ratchet was aware of how bad his condition was. He knew, because Ratchet's body reacted to the pain instinctively, as every organic's did. He put more weight on his right foot as he walked, avoided using one arm entirely and even adjusted his harness so that carrying the robot was not quite as uncomfortable. His ears simply lied limp against his skull as he trudged onward, a reaction he had seen when he knew for certain that Ratchet was hurting. And yet the Lombax continued to insist on doing nothing about it, saving the nanotech they had found earlier for greater wounds he might receive later. It was almost like his own pain did not matter...

Clank did not know much about organic minds and how they worked, but he knew that was not quite right.

As they continued onward, trapped in a disguise, Clank continued to scan the contents of his memory banks. The limp had been there for a while... the shoulder thing was slightly new, though. And it was getting harder and harder not to simply pull Ratchet over and demand that he take care of himself. Instead, he recanted every injury Ratchet might have, mapping the possible bruises and accounting for his body's natural healing. Even so, it was not a pretty picture he ended up with in the end.

When they finally reached the teleporter that led to Drek's flagship, Clank finally let himself snap. He pulled himself off of Ratchet's back, ignoring the Lombax's questions, and forced open the container of nanotech. Ratchet gave him a sharp look, scolding him both with words and expression for wasting their medicine, but when he finally gave up and allowed Clank onto his back again, the robot was smiling.

Ratchet's limp was gone.

* * *

There were no shut down codes.

No robot guarding it to let them past.

Nothing. No way past their newest obstacle; a simple force field.

"Why does this not surprise me?" Grumbled the Lombax, leaning laxly against the nearby wall. His hand pressed against his temple, rubbing as if to soothe a headache, "They finally wised up. They finally put up an impassible obstacle. No freakin' way we're getting through here."

To his side, the robot puzzled over the field, looking over it again and again with narrowed eyes. Then he turned to examine the rest of the room. Then, finally, he turned to Ratchet with a faint grin, "Well, if we cannot go through it, we might as well go under it."

The Lombax's response was borderline predictable; he raised a 'brow at the bot and stared t him like he had lost his marbles, "Under it?" He repeated, each syllable pronounced in exactly the right way to let Clank know what exactly he thought of the idea.

Still Clank did not waver. If anything, his smile seemed to grow, "Yes. It appears as though this is a landing platform for... 'diplomatic guests'. As secure as it may seem, the ships have to come in from somewhere, correct? Just give me a moment," A single moment passed. Then two. Then three. Then a hanger bay door to their right opened, startling the Lombax enough to cause him to jump. Clank, giggling at the display, quieted down at the glare Ratchet shot his way, "Right," He spoke, still smiling, "Just strap on your magnet boots and O2 mask. We are about to walk in space."

"Somehow," Spoke the Lombax, pouting some as he pulled on the shoes, "I don't think that's going to be as fun as it sounds," Once the shoe was on, he made to tie it and was surprised when Clank took over the job for him. His way of tying the knot was much more efficient than Ratchet's: X, through the loop, pull, loop it, pull around, through the noose, pull taut. Ratchet committed the process to memory and tried it with his other shoe. And... whataya know? Much more effective. With that done, Clank was secured on the harness, the O2 mask was pulled over his head, and off they were, scaling the side of the gigantic flagship.

The outside of the large ship was just as one might have expected it to be; gray, boring. With nothing but fighters flying around on their patrol routes. Walking around out here, despite being technically upside down, was not nearly as strenuous as Ratchet's other experiences with the magnet boots. Decreased gravity really did do wonders. Still, despite how interesting an experience it was, both robot and organic were tense. The fur at the base of Ratchet's neck stood up on end; Clank was rigid, absolutely still. But how could they not be nervous, surrounded by the enemy, risking being caught every second they were outside of cover. The large turrets on the other side, dangerous and inactive, only made it worse. They were pointed directly at the maintenance catwalk the duo were waddling on, and every second in their range of fire increased the pounding of Ratchet's heart against his ribcage.

Clank kind of liked the feeling; it was a reassurance that they had not yet died.

Getting to the other side felt as though it took forever; when they finally did, Clank remotely activated the maintenance elevator, which lowered them into the safety of the ship, still upside down. It was downright laughable; just below them, with at least triple Ratchet's height of distance between them, were Lupine units, feebly barking at the roof while the singular guard in the room remained clueless. Both of them laughed freely at their circumstance, then made their way across the roof, not giving a second thought to the enemies below them.

The elevator that finally brought them down to the ground – it was the ground, right? – was in the room next to the bridge which, oddly enough, was completely vacant. To Clank, this was no surprise. The flagship was mostly automated, due to Drek's hatred for unwelcome interruptions. To Ratchet, it was just weird. Even the most advanced of artificially intelligent ships needed maintenance crew around. To see an entire ship barren of organic life felt off, in some strange way. It went against everything he knew as a mechanic.

There was a singular chair in the room; occupied by a short figure. Clank removed himself from Ratchet's back, gave the Lombax a nod, and they crept forward, fully intent on smacking the information out of the only person who could possibly be in that chair: Supreme Executive Chairman Drek-

Before they could get too close, though, the chair spun around, revealing a single infobot. It squeaked awkwardly at the sight of them, ready to attack, and began to shiver in fear.

"An infobot?" Ratchet questioned, lowering his blaster.

Clank nodded, approaching the poor thing and reassuring it in binary as he simultaneously spoke to Ratchet, "I would imagine this is Drek's personal infobot."

It looked up at Clank, unsure for a second whether or not it should betray its master's trust. It took a little more coaxing on Clank's part – and a reminder that Drek was not his 'master', and should not be referred to as such – before it relented, expanding to show Ratchet and Clank where the weapon they had been seeking was.

* * *

"_Tonight!" The announcer shouted, voice tinged with excitement, "The night we have all been waiting for since Operation: Recolonization began: The destruction of the completely useless rock once known as Veldin! Witness, as Ultimate Extreme Executive Chairman Drek," The screen flashed to Drek, standing outside of a building and grinning proudly, "Presses a large button and restores the hopes and dreams of the Blargian people!"_

_The screen flashed to Drek, grinning widely at the camera, "I am Extreme Executive Chairman Drek and I approve this message."_

"_Also, tonight: The Galaxy's Funniest Superhero Bloopers! Starring Captain Qwark!"_

* * *

"He is already set up," Clank mumbled as he and Ratchet stared at the screen blankly; both wearing the same neutral expression for the first time, "We... we have no time left. There is no way we can search all of Veldin before he-"

Ratchet interrupted, voice quiet and numb, "I know where he is."

Shocked, the robot looked towards the young Lombax, eyes widened, "What? Where?"

"That was my garage in the background," Ratchet's voice remained numb, unwavering in its emotionless state, "There's a mountain range not far from there... formed straight on top of a fault line. If Drek's anywhere, he's there."

There was a moment's silence, where Ratchet took a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath, and finally turning to Clank. There were no words, no reassurances. Those would were useless now, they both knew. The only thing they could do was race to the finish; find Drek, find that laser. And pray, hope, wish that they found it in time.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: WHATISTHISIDON'TEVEN-

Apologies. Most of this was written while I was half-asleep. I'm mostly used to the meds now, but they've still messed up my sleepcycle. Whatever. So... comments on the chapter... I have none. Literally, I cannot think of a single thing to say right now. Nothing. So... um, yeah.

What did I do good on?: Eh... section four. About Clank and nanotech.

What did I fail on?: Section three is so weird. I did not mean to make it that way I swear. Just... um... yeah.

Random question for reviewers: How do you think Orvus feels about Ratchet?


	22. Veldin II: Friendship

Veldin had... changed since Ratchet had last been there.

It was hard not to simply press his cheeks to the glass and gap in horror at the device now situated comfortably in the mountains of Kyzil Plateau. It was quite large; a multilayer, almost fortress-like structure that extended up past the tallest of the peeks. Everything in him screamed that it didn't belong. It didn't belong. It didn't belong. It had to go. It had to DIE. Something of a feral snarl escaped his lips before he could stop it and, slightly embarrassed, he turned his head away from the superstructure and muttered, "All right, I'm gonna take her around and land her in front of my garage. There's a trail not far from there that'll lead us straight up there."

Thankfully, the robot either missed or, more likely, chose to ignore the growl and instead nodded in response to the statement. Things remained an uncomfortable amount of quiet until they touched down. Then, Ratchet was too entranced to notice the silence anymore.

Home. He was home.

It wasn't quite the relief it would be for most people, but the familiarity created a comfortable numbing in his brain. It wasn't quite the way he'd left it, he noted; nothing was missing, but it was more of a mess than it was previously. Most likely the Kyzil Defense Specialists sweeping through the garage looking for him when he missed his appointment with the Doc. Although annoyed, Ratchet fought off his first instinct – to put everything back where it belonged – and instead turned around,swiftly exiting the familiar building and walking past Clank, whom was watching the entire scene from a safe distance.

"Ratchet?" The robot questioned, running to catch up. The Lombax didn't answer, but stopped and allowed Clank to catch up. The green lights met his own eyes questioningly and, when they got no response, Clank continued, "Ratchet, are you alright?"

"No," The Lombax answered honestly; something about this whole situation, seeing the home he'd spent the last five or so years squatting in defiled, torn to shreds, created a black hole of emotion in his gut, sucking in the sorrow and anger and guilt to create a weight in his stomach. How many times had he scaled the mountains not far from his garage, climbing through the rocky terrain to gaze down at the large city? How many caves had he explored, bravely walking forward with a poorly-made lantern until his best friend pushed him behind, taking the lead and watching out for danger? "No, I'm not. We need to stop that thing."

That was all he bothered to say before grasping the robot's hand, pulling Clank onto his back without further warning. That was all that was said before Ratchet took off, taking the familiar worn-down path that lead to the mountainous range where this all began.

* * *

Clank was not entirely sure why Ratchet stopped at this particular spot. There were no obstacles... not any that he could see, at any rate, and they had clearly not arrived at their destination. All of a sudden, with no warning, no reasoning, he just... paused. Before Clank had the opportunity to openly question this abrupt stop, Ratchet beat him to it with a surprising answer, "This... this is where we met."

All the robot could respond with was a simple, borderline impassive blink. Here? No, that was not quite right. The first time his memory logs recorded any evidence of Ratchet's existence was when he had awoken at Ratchet's garage to the Lombax working on the vessel they had used to escape with, now that he thought back to it, care and affection he scarcely put into anything else. Feeling this was a good time to disengage, Clank did just that, standing next to Ratchet as they both stared at the massive hole in the ground, bits of metal and scrap littering it.

Ratchet chuckled, "Wow, they didn't even bother cleaning it. 'Course, they never clean anything that crashes here. They just let the metal ruins sit. Well, whatever. More to scavenge, I guess."

From the verbal clues, Clank put it together rather quickly. This was not where they had met, per say, but where Ratchet had first encountered his unconscious form, before bringing it back to the garage where he had awoken. The metal bits were pieces of his escape pod that had not burnt up in the crash. Suddenly, this hole in the ground, insignificant, unsightly and a rather unappealing blemish on the otherwise consistent terrain had become a well of positive feedback. Unsure of what he could possibly say, he simply stared down at the hole and relished in the calming emotions.

This lasted all of five point three seconds.

Then, without any prior warning, he was tumbling, falling to the bottom of the ditch before he could even process what had occurred. When his processors finally did catch up, they recognized that he was behind Ratchet, whom in turn was crouched behind one of the larger metal pieces left over from the crash. The distinct sound of shots being fired echoed through the mountain range, and Clank blinked.

They were under attack.

Thankfully, there only seemed to be one of the Blargian sentinels. With one quick check to make sure Ratchet was occupied – he was – Clank leaned out and scanned over the- oh dear. This was one of the Blargian Commando Units that Mother had so helpfully engrained with 'Do not confront'. They were amongst the most highly skilled and heavily armed of Drek's forces. Worse still: the high-grade raritanium armor they wore, making them impervious to shots fired from Ratchet's blaster. Maybe if it were higher grade, they would have a shot, but as things stood-

"What are you doing?" Ratchet snapped, pushing him back behind the piece of metal, "You TRYING to get killed?"

"My apologies," The robot immediately reconciled, then blinked and decided to tell Ratchet of his diagnosis for the fight, "But I do not think that this is an altercation we can win. At least, not without some sort of outer party intervention, and the odds of that happening are-"

At the last second Ratchet cut him off, shushing him loudly before glaring ahead at commando. Then, with a simple look and a quick, "Stay down," Ratchet zoomed forth, shooting straight and zig-zagging to avoid the others shots as he... passed by the commando, who turned tail to chase after him. All Clank could do was stand there, shocked, and watch as Ratchet raced towards the mountains surrounding them and climb it with a skill and speed that must have taken years to obtain. Slower, the commando followed, visibly strained by the climb Ratchet performed easily.

Eventually, Ratchet came to a cliff, three fifteenths of the way from the top of the cliff side. From there, three shots, each made, Clank could tell with the aid of optical zoom, with care and precision. All three hit their intended marks; different points on the mountain side, which disrupted the fragile balance of the rocky ecosystem, jarring the rocks and causing them to break lose and fall; they were headed straight towards the overhang Ratchet was situated on. But it was easy to see Ratchet had a plan. He hopped down, off the ledge, using his hands and feet to slide his way down the cliff side, passing by the commando whom only had a moment to attempt to grab him before becoming aware of the danger he was in right as the rocks hit their mark square on, bringing him down with them as they continued to chase the Lombax. Several cubits up from the ground he pounced, hands and feet hitting the ground at the same time before he picked himself up and ran, sliding into the ditch and grasping Clank's hand as he ran, pulling the robot onto his back. Only when they were completely out of danger did he pause to take several gasping breaths.

Ratchet's heart was beating quite fast against Clank's back.

"Well," Breathed out the Lombax in between the low gasps, "That worked. I guess."

Numbly, Clank surveyed the scene again, "Yes, it did. I have to admit, that was quite an effective way to handle that."

"I've always wanted to do something like that," Confessed the mechanic, a hint of wonder in his voice. It faded quickly as he frowned, pulling the blaster up to his face, "That was the last of our ammo, though. And..." He stole a quick glance at the pile of rocks, "we can't exactly take that guy's."

This was a problem. They could not exactly continue without a weapon, except... except they did have a weapon. Turning to Ratchet, Clank responded, "Well, we do have an alternate weapon I picked up on Orxon."

"Why didn't you say anything?" The Lombax half-smirked, picking up a scolding tone that Clank assumed was mocking, "Well, c'mon, let's see it," Almost immediately the smile fell, a look of surprise taking its place as the wrench was removed from Clank's internal storage area, being held carefully in both hands as it was transferred from the robot to the stunned Lombax. For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, Ratchet asked, "You... you kept this?"

With a short nod and a smile, Clank replied, "Of course I did. This is your most valued possession, is it not?" Never had he a doubt that this was the correct choice, and seeing the amazement on Ratchet's face confirmed this, "It did not seem right to let it rot in that factory, so... I simply brought it with us. Look!" Interfacing directly with it, Clank set the automatic adjustment, "I even finished fixing it."

There was a look of pure amazement on Ratchet's face; for at least the time being, any fear or worry seemed to have been wrung out of him. For a while, he simply turned the weapon over, eying it in amazement... and then his attention returned to Clank, "I don't... think you know how much this means to me. Thanks."

"It is not a problem," Smoothly replied the robot, "What are friends for?"

* * *

Ratchet turned the wrench over in his hand, silently beholding it in wonder as Clank hacked into the gateway that separated them from the monstrosity that was Drek's Deplanetizer. It was still hard to believe that this thing was there, tangible in his hands, fixed up and ripe for usage. A warmth tugged at Ratchet's heartstrings, and he couldn't find the energy to fight it back. This thing... it had been with him all his life. All he had of his non-existent family. Hell, he was named after the stupid thing... sort of. Trust nursery maids to be unable to tell a wrench from a ratchet. But even so, there was no denying how upset he'd been when he'd realized that he would never hold the familiar tool in his hand; that it would be forever lost in the poisonous atmosphere of Orxon. And now...

"Ratchet," Clank interrupted, "It appears as though we will require the Trespasser to completely bypass this gate. Do you mind?"

Moving quickly and silently, Ratchet stood next to the gate and connected to the device while Clank, in turn, interfaced with it. The level of concentration, Ratchet noted, had apparently gone down. Instead of the determined face Clank usually wore when hacking there was a blank, almost relaxed expression. Of course, once you had done something several times before it only stood to reason that it got easier, right? And perhaps, in its own weird way, this was relaxing for Clank. You know, maybe.

When Clank finished, the locks clicked and the shield went down, opening the path they would need to climb to reach the top of the large machinery. And bless the Blarg. Bless the Blarg for creating one of the most convenient ways to walk up something ever. Okay, so the whole gravity pull you felt while walking up walls and upside down was a feeling he'd never get used to, but you cannot deny how useful magnetic walkways are. Slipping on both shoes was far faster this time and, though Clank offered to assist, Ratchet managed to tie the shoes himself, even remembering Clank's technique for making knots. In seconds, they ascended, fighting gravity with each heavy step.

Once at the top, Ratchet looked down and frowned pointedly at the basin of water. This... this definitely hadn't been here before. One thing he was never too fond of regarding the planet was the water ration, and for the Blarg to bring this here, not even to drink, but to cool the machinery that would destroy the planet was nothing short of insulting. When Clank told him that the best way to pass was to clear the water out, Ratchet was all too happy to oblige, feeling coolness radiating off of the hydrodisplacer as it sucked in and contained the liquid. From there, the easiest way to ascend was by climbing through some mountainous caverns; apparently Drek did not trust his underlings enough to create a passage from this level to the next. That was okay, though; these mountains were imbedded in Ratchet's memory, and to get to the top would be all-too easy when going through the old mining shaft.

"You certainly seem to know this place well," Commented the robot on his back as Ratchet turned onto one way of a split path; the Lombax could only chuckle under his breath as memories came back. A little Lombax boy was laughing as he climbed the semi-dangerous equipment that had long since been disabled. Making jumps across the mining platforms that anyone else would consider far too dangerous to even attempt. But to two little boys it was a playground, if they knew what such a thing was. A place to escape to when life became too much.

Trying to keep the nostalgic wistfulness from his voice, Ratchet answered, "This is where I used to hang out. Not exactly the safest place for a six year old to play around, but it beats sitting around an overheated building waiting for an adoption that'll never happen."

There was complete silence for a while; Ratchet couldn't really blame him for that. Nothing you could really say to that. Instead, he focused on the surroundings; there was a deep hole in the ground where a tunneling device Ratchet had attempted to fix had suddenly turned on, burrowing deep into the plateau. Little divots in a wall from where the two of them had simply practiced climbing, seeing who could reach the top first. A pile of broken machinery from a particularly frustrating day; Ratchet had stood in silence as he watched his best; first; only friend violently rip apart the mining equipment.

"Ratchet?"

The Lombax blinked, feeling for the first time the welling tears, "I'm fine... let's just get the hell outta here."

* * *

Clank had to admit; Ratchet really did know this place well. Where they emerged was just slightly below the upper platform of the Deplanetizer. One shot to a well-placed telecommunication orb had them flying over the short gulch between the Deplanetizer and the cliff side. The distance downward was significant; at least several kilocubits. And Ratchet, according to the Lombax himself, used to come up here regularly, looking down on the extreme heights. It was not quite normal, according to what his memory banks told him about organic lifeforms, but it was not quite unusual either. This place held memories, though, that was for certain. Every now and again Ratchet would pause, even if for only half a second, to stare at specific spots, as if traveling back in time to revisit the memory.

From there, Clank to reigns in terms of direction. Ratchet may have known Veldin like the back of his hand, far better than any map, but when it came to Blargian technology, there was no match to the knowledge Clank held. His memory banks sent to his processors multiple blueprints to his mind, letting him know what to expect. Adjoining cooling chambers marked the bottom of the machine; empty, now, for whatever reason, but it was a simple matter to fill them again and watch as Ratchet dove under the water, O2 mask put to his face.

As they went further up, forced back into mountains higher up, they encountered their first true obstacle: a wall.

"Well," Ratchet frowned at it, "They finally got an effective defense system; a wall. Don't really think we'll be able to climb THAT. Even I can't scale smooth, straight edges. At least, not without some serious climbing equipment," Ratchet paused, frowning in puzzlement, then snapped his fingers as something caught his attention, "Aha!"

The device in question was a rather familiar looking panel placed on the ground. A singular round circle with a glowing red center. For a moment Clank simply stared, then recanted Quartu. The device that allowed for growth! This was it; but why was it here? What would they have to enlarge? Worry engulfed Clank as Ratchet went up to examine the device.

"Thing's up and running," He said after a moment; a wide, mischievous smirk then engulfed his face, "Up for wrecking some more Blargian merchandise?"

Not that he really had a choice, Clank realized. Without answering verbally he stepped up to the plate, feeling energy run through his entire form. The uncomfortable feeling lasted only a second before his processor adapted to his new size and adjusted his servos accordingly. With a gentle smirk, the robot extended a hand out to Ratchet, wordlessly asking if he needed a hand. Soon enough, with Ratchet settled on his back, Clank took off.

It took only a few punches before the wall fell, revealing behind it a path straight to the Deplanetizer. They were so, SO close...

But, as with everything that occurred during their quest, it was not quite that simple.

There was the distinct sound of Ratchet gasping loudly as Clank stumbled back from the force of the large bot landing. Upon sighting it, he was helpless to stop the flooding of his processing information as locked data suddenly became available. Project Xetacon. A large, experimental defense mech built for the sole purpose of fending off gigantic invaders. Except now it was being used to instigate an invasion, driven by a tyrant intent on destroying the planet. Blueprints, weak points; all of the information available on it nearly overwhelmed him. He could only barely make out Drek's words. Something about poetry? But he did not miss Ratchet's simplistic instructions:

"Let's get 'em!"

And so they did. Clank walked forward, eyes narrowed as he watched Drek's 'bot fire rapidly. He quickly shielded himself with his arms, allowing them to take most of the damage as he began to move forward, going as fast as he possibly could. Once close enough he raised a fist and punched, his enhanced strength allowing him to create a dent in it after a few strong blows. In that instant, the razor sharp claws of Drek's mech grasped at his wrists, cutting into them slightly before pushing Clank away.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker on the 'bot activated, sending a message to them, "It's a shame, really; you two are skilled. You could have been useful. If only you'd chosen the right side..." Optical zoom told him that Drek was smirking, and that was the last glimpse of the character he got before a ray fired from the mech, causing a surge of discomfort before he suddenly found himself back at his normal size... and with Ratchet's suddenly unbearable load on his shoulders. He tottered for a bit, before stumbling and falling, taking Ratchet down with him.

It did not take long for the Lombax to recover form the unexpected stumble, however. Before Clank could get up on his own Ratchet had grabbed him, reconnecting him to the bolt harness and running forward. Straight at the mech.

"Clank!" Called the Lombax, still moving; the thumping on Clank's back increased and Ratchet's breathing grew ragged, "What can you tell me about this thing?"

"Project Xetacon is a Blargian Defense Technological breakthrough that never quite happened. The mech has a number of problems, including problems with flight control, inability to fire heavy weapons without causing damage and a number of weak points in its skeletal structure. This is made up for by plasma-generators creating endless ammo for the small-grade weapons and large pieces of armor. The best way to stop it would be to cause as many technical problems as possible."

Here, Ratchet made a little scoffing sound, "Well, not often a mechanic has to _break_ the robot... well, this should be interesting..."

As they approached, Drek scoffed, "Please," A second later, a large button not far ahead of them – about middle of the platform – elevated from below the ground, "Once I press this button, a countdown will begin... the end of which marks the destruction of this pitiful ball of dust.

The muscles on Ratchet's back tensed, and Clank felt anger; coolly, he refrained and simply asked, "But why this way? We both know there are better options for the Blargian people's future!"

"Peh!" The small, pink man scoffed, "You think THAT'S what this is all about? We've always known what are future is: to conquer, to destroy! We need to remind the galaxy exactly what the Blarg are capable of! Once, we were feared!" Getting into the speech, Drek stood, pumping a fist upward, "Once, we were great!"

"Once," The Lombax reminded him, voice laced with dark emotions, "But you ruined that. You had your shot; you blew it. You can't just force yourself back into power. At least, not like this. Not from your position."

Voice tinged with anger – unusual for the normally stoic leader – Drek commented, "As if you are one to talk, Lombax. Your people squandered their greatness. I'm not entirely sure what happened to them, but whatever they got... they probably deserved it for their own stupidity."

And, for the first time, Clank understood the lure of the dark emotion. How it could take hold; how it could drive to do terrible, horrible things. The images his processor created were consuming and all too alluring, and he could not stop shaking, unable to hide the hatred in his voice as he spoke, "You... you evil little..." But he could not finish that sentence. There was not a word horrible enough to describe Drek, even in his vast expanse of a vocabulary. The Blargian merely smirked and pressed down the button. A clear, smooth voice rang out that they had five minutes until the laser fully charged.

"Save it, Clank," Ratchet, for once, was the voice of reason, "We've got to stop that timer! C'mon!"

And so they moved, forward, as one being, working together to avoid Drek's attack. Clank could communicate to Ratchet where the attacks were going to come from and the Lombax could move accordingly. The wrench in his grip was used as a sort of a bat, to deflect projectiles that simply could not be avoided. As they approached the large mech, Ratchet tensed and leapt, only barely grasping the edge of the bottom of it, subconsciously flinching at the heat of the jets keeping it suspended. Then he climbed, using the various ridges of the robot as ledges. Drek's claws swatted at them, but he could not really do much without risking damage to his 'bot. There was a place in the armor where it failed to fuse, and Ratchet squirmed in like a bug, the critical eye of a mechanic going over the skeletal structure and finding the weak points almost immediately. He moved, quickly, quietly, and immediately began working at the points. Wrench adjusted to the correct size, he worked at the screws, each one falling out until, eventually, the structure began to crack.

Drek's 'bot protested; shots from a blaster were fired down from the cockpit and, when that didn't work, he began spinning the 'bot quickly, forcing Ratchet to hang on for dear life. When it became apparent that the spinning was not going to stop, he simply moved slower, taking careful, calculated movements until he reached the next weak point. Then he began working at it until it collapsed. Oops. There went an arm.

But Drek was not finished quite yet. The spinning 'bot came to a sudden stop, nearly flinging the duo off of it. Only luck kept them on before they started spinning again. Some time later, it stopped again. Still, Ratchet persisted, keeping at it until he reached the next weak point and hammered at that, too. That's about the point where Ratchet's endurance failed and he fell.

"Grah!" Drek cried, "You little pests!" He reached up with the remaining hand, meaning to crush the exhausted Lombax under his hand. Before he could, the loose screws unhinged the arm, causing it to fall back awkwardly. Desperately he moved, pulling at different levers in a failed attempt to keep balance only to accidentally activate the jet propulsion, sending him flying up and up and up and up... until he disappeared in the vastness of space, presumably landing on the synthetic planet below.

Clank had disengaged from the slowly recovering Ratchet at this point, staring up at the abomination above. How many had died to form such a thing? This... abomination now hovering in Veldin's atmosphere. It needed to be destroyed.

And then, quite suddenly, it was.

When Drek launched off, the sheer force of the propulsion pushed off of the guiding mechanism for the Deplanetizer, causing the device to aim for the large planet behind them as opposed to Veldin. The artificial voice rang out behind them: five, four, three, two, one. Fire. A singular yellow beam shot out from the gigantic device, headed straight towards the planet and, in a flash of light, it was gone. Destroyed. Little bits and pieces of it flying off in every which direction. Nothing on it could have survived; including Drek.

Clank scanned his memory banks for an appropriate word to use. Eventually, it settled on the word 'Karma'. Yes, that worked quite nicely.

But it was not over quite yet. As if Drek unleashed one last attack on the duo, meteors – little bits and remains of the planet – came raining down, pouring fire onto the planet. Most of them, thankfully, would burn up in the atmosphere. Quite a few would get through and land on different sections of the planet. Most of them, though, would be intercepted by the Deplanetizer, effectively destroying the hulking device.

Bad news: They were kind of ON the Deplanetizer.

It was only after that last thought processed that the meteors started raining down from all directions. There was really nowhere to run and nowhere to hide; only watch numbly as one of the chunks of rock landed and exploded right in front of him, sending him careening right over the edge of the platform. Reaching and groping blindly proved to be successful as he managed to grasp and keep a hold of one of the sides, keeping a firm hold and managing not to fall to his doom. Seconds later, Ratchet followed, straight over the same ledge, screaming in shock and using the same tactic until, finally, he caught hold of Clank's foot. The robot might have been more relieved if the stress of Ratchet's weight had not snapped the servos in his arm.

"Whew," The Lombax breathed, looking down, "that was close," A few more seconds passed, during which Clank sent urgent messages to his arm to pick them up. It resisted, instead growing weaker and weaker, "Ah, Clank you can... heh... pull us up now."

Taking a breath he did not need, Clank reported the diagnosis, "It appears that the servos in my arms are... broken."

"Broken?" Ratchet repeated, almost numb in his shock, "As in fall to our deaths broken?"

"Ah... yes."

And then, quite suddenly, they did.

* * *

Well, Ratchet thought numbly, this was it. This was the end. The death that he had so narrowly avoided more than a year ago was finally coming to him. Things like fear and pain eluded his comprehension as he simply watched the ground grow closer and closer... really, he should have thought about this way a year ago. Nobody to save him this time, and it would certainly be an instant death. The thought was comforting. Too bad about Clank, though. He... he was a good kid.

Those were the last thoughts of Ratchet the Lombax as he fell to his death off of the high mountains of the Kyzil Plateau, after saving the world, and the galaxy, from the evil Blargian leader. Or at least, they would have been.

Then from the left came a sharp pain as something rocketed straight into him, intercepting his fall. The momentum and force that would have killed him was disrupted and they merely bounced off the ground. Bruises and cuts, at best. No broken bones. Not much pain. And certainly no death. For a moment, Ratchet was almost disappointed. Then he caught sight of Clank.

The robot was already picking himself up, nursing the broken arm with his good hand. The sight immediately caused shame – Clank had saved him, and he was disappointed. Swallowing a new lump in his throat, Ratchet gave as sincere a smile as he could muster and said, "Ah, thanks. That was a close one, wasn't it?"

"Indeed," The robot replied, emotionless. Ratchet let it slide this time. Poking the broken arm experimentally, Clank continued, "My arm, however... appears to be badly damaged."

Ratchet gave an apologetic smile – why should he feel guilty? Wasn't his fault the arm was broken – and told him straight up, "Ah, you'll be fine," And he would be. A class-two nanohive meant that his recovery would go smoothly, maybe last a few days or so. They would just have to put it in a sling and wait for it to heal. Actually, they should probably do that soon. Picking himself up, Ratchet walked off, heart set on reaching the garage. And who knows? From there, maybe he could find an apartment off-planet for Clank. Help him find a home. Maybe they'd still talk. Maybe...

Ratchet paused; this was a metal bridge. Shouldn't he hear Clank's footsteps? Turning around, Ratchet blinked at the empty sight, then walked back, eyes peeled for the little robot. He didn't get very far before Clank came into sight, though. Back turned towards the bridge, the robot was walking off, still nursing his broken arm... in the completely opposite direction.

A weight suddenly decided to settle in his gut. So... this was it? Clank was just... going to leave? After all he did for the robot, they were just going to part ways without another word? Ratchet wasn't much for socialization, but that still didn't sit well with him. Well, maybe this was for the best, right? Clank goes off, does his own thing and they'd both be happier... right?

Wrong. Jaw set, Ratchet made a decision. He didn't know if it was smart or sensible; he wasn't either of those things. But maybe, just maybe... the robot would prove him wrong. He... actually kind of hoped for it.

So, swallowing back his inhibitions, Ratchet called, "Hey, tin can!"

Clank turned back, and Ratchet could see the sheer amazement on his face. Funny, how he once thought that there was no emotion on that robotic face; now he could make out the different expressions with little problem. He walked towards the robot as Clank walked towards him; his size and Clank's injury meant that Ratchet was the one who had to travel the farther distance, but that was alright. It wasn't that long, anyways.

They stood a moment in silence; maybe Clank didn't find it awkward, judging from his expression, bur Ratchet certainly did. He rubbed the back of his neck and asked, "Hey, where ya going, pal?" He smiled, "We, ah, still need to fix that arm."

"You do realize that my arm will repair itself, right- oh," Clank's eyes widened in revelation, and then he smiled gently. A smile Ratchet found himself unconsciously returning as they walked back together, side by side, Clank holding his arm and Ratchet twirling his wrench, already planning in his head the repair and a possible upgrade.

Maybe Clank would move on. Maybe Ratchet would never see him again. Maybe this would be his last day with the robot. But if that be the case, if they were going to part ways... then maybe, just maybe, they should seize the day while they still can.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Aaaaaaaannnnnnnnddddddd... scene.

Thus ends _Carpe Diem_, complete with a cheesy closing line. I make no apologies for that one but, whatever. There's still the epilogue; just a quick warning: if you're going to review, favorite or follow, please do it now, before the epilogue goes up. That's where I'll post this stories final stats. That's also where I'll talk about a few things.

(Psst. Sorry for the late update. Veldin is a long freakin' level. And I'm tired. ZZZZZ.)

What did I do good on?: Daaaw, Ratchet got the wrench back.

What did I fail on?: Cheesy ending line is cheesy.

Random Question for Reviewers: What's your favorite R&C weapon?


	23. Epilogue: Home

Wiry fingers tangled together as their nervous owner wrung them together restlessly. Sigmund had never considered himself a calm sort of robot in the least pressuring of circumstances, and what was about to occur could certainly not be placed in that particular category. Remaining silent in his anxiety, Sigmund cautiously peered into the small chamber where Orvus had holed himself up in since returning from depositing XJ-0641's soul into the body that the Zoni Elder had specifically chosen for him. Taking one final moment to calm himself, Sigmund approached cautiously, clutching both hands to his chest as he muttered, "Sir?"

"Ah," Orvus turned around, that beloved smile still on his face. But it seemed... different, somehow. It didn't quite match with the story the rest of his face told, "Sigmund. Please, come in," Just as careful as ever, the younger 'bot approached, hands tangling with each other to prevent themselves from reaching out to comfort his superior. Turning back to stare into the screen that had so captivated his attention since returning from infusing the soul of XJ-0641 with the body chosen specifically for him, Orvus asked, "What can I do for you, my friend?"

"I- um..." Again the jitters caught Sigmund, causing him to stare at his hands as his words sputtered on, "I was just passing by and... you seem... sad, sir."

The older caretaker looked up, an almost tired glaze in his eyes, "Do I?" The smile never wavered, even as he looked again to the screen, "Hmm... well, regardless, it is good that you stopped by. I need to tell you..." Orvus paused, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, "that it will be quite some time before XJ-0641 – Clank – is able to join us here at the Great Clock."

Sigmund blinked. Once. Twice. Disappointment was evident in his expression and he did not try to hide it; new faces were rare around here. Hands kneaded together, the robot asked, "Sir? What do you mean?

"Come see for yourself," Cryptically responded the Zoni, and with that returned his attention to the screen which Sigmund noticed, for the first time, was displaying the scene of a robot and a... cat?

* * *

"_Turn it off! Turn it off!"_

_Fumbling a bit with the remote, a small gray robot complied – finally aiming it at the black box and pressing down, effectively cutting off the connection of the black box. Frowning in a mixture of experiment and disgust, the robot commented, "Well, that was... disturbing. On a number of levels."_

_The feline creature sighed heavily, collapsing laxly into its chair so that it was more laying than sitting, "Understatement of the millennium, pal," Then, cautiously opening one eye, it sat up a bit, peering over to the other chair and asking as if the thought just occurred to it, "Uh... hey, how's your arm doing?"_

_In response to the question, the other brought up an arm and bent it in several ways, obviously testing the servos, "As good as new... almost as if this never happened."_

"_That's good..." The large cat trailed off awkwardly, then brought a hand to its head and scratched, "So, now what? I mean, with Drek dead and the Blarg under Galactic surveillance..."_

"_I am honestly not certain," Replied the robot, staring down at its folded hands, "Stopping Drek's plans was my singular purpose for existing... with him dead, I do not really have any reason to exist now, do I?"_

_The feline was sitting up fully in an instant, eyes narrowed as it harshly snapped, "Don't talk like that!" Then, almost immediately, it back-pedaled, speaking quite a bit softer as it spoke, "I-I mean, you'll think of something, right?" There was a visible sadness in its eyes, "It's not like you're the first guy to have an existential crisis."_

_Missing the lingering despondency within its companion's tone, the robot cheered considerably, "You are right, Ratchet. I mean, you organics are born without any purpose at all, existing simply to exist without any point," Ignorant to the growing misery on Ratchet's features, the robot spun suddenly, smiling up at the cat with such liveliness that it could not help but smile back, "And yet, you all find your own purpose as you go along. Perhaps that is a staple of sentience; to chose your own destiny. Nevertheless, I will continue to think on it."_

"_Well, until you have it figured out," Ratchet leaned on the arm of its chair, watching the robot pace about as it spoke, "You're welcome to stay here, I guess. I mean, with your diagnosis skills, repairs would go even faster than ever! And... I guess a little company wouldn't hurt."_

_Spinning around to face the cat, the robot paused, scanning its face, "You are certain? I mean... I can find something else."_

"_Hey, nobody's forcing you to stay," Replied Ratchet, tone suddenly becoming defensive, "I'm just saying door's open, if you want."_

"_I... I would like that, yes," The robot responded, a ghost of a smile coating his metal mouth. Ratchet, still sitting, matched it with the tiniest bit of enthusiasm lighting his eyes._

* * *

"I have seen Ratchet's past," Orvus spoke gravely, as if his words contained great tragedy, "And I know... he will need my son far more than either of us will."

"But, sir..." Memories of their conversation concerning XJ-0641's place at the Clock came into vivid, accurate focus, "You said you wanted..."

Orvus gently shushed the Junior Caretaker, smiling with sadness, "Yes, I did want that. But fate has decided otherwise... and so it shall be. In time, my son may find his way here to the Clock, but right now his place is elsewhere," The childlike knowledge of a secret lit Orvus' eyes through the quiet mourning, "I know my son is in good hands, Sigmund. We will just have to wait until time and fate bring him back to us."

Suddenly, without warning, Orvus turned to Sigmund, surprising the younger robot.

"And, if I am being completely honest... Clank is a much better name for him, anyways."

* * *

Three gentle knocks rang through the small room, drawing the woman working studiously at her desk from her computer, "Yes?"

At this cue the door opened, slowly, carefully, so that she could not see who was behind it until the door was resting against a wall. To say the identity of the one interrupting her was a surprise was quite the understatement.

Blinking, numb in her surprise, the doctor spoke gently, "Ratchet."

The Lombax entered the room, left hand reaching across his body to gently squeeze the right one, as if granting himself reassurance. He seemed different from the hardened boy whom had been required to attend therapy; something inside of him had been ruptured, she was sure. His being here was proof enough of that. There was a sense of paranoia about him as he entered, eyes trying to scan the room before forcing themselves to stop. The action, from what she'd heard of his activities, was not all that surprising. Not nearly as surprising as his presence here.

Keeping standing, the young Lombax made his way to the center of the room, right hand clenched while his left continued to remain wrapped around it. His face was kept down as he spoke; eyes refused to meet her, "Hey, doc."

For a while, there were no words. Breaking free of her shock, the doctor had then patiently awaited for Ratchet to speak... and when he did not, she did, "I heard about what you did, Ratchet. Saved the planet, possibly the galaxy... I believe a congratulations are in order."

"I've had enough of that from everyone around here," Dismissed Ratchet with a wave of his hand, "But, ah, I need to talk to you about something."

Nodding, the female doctor leaned forward, propping her head on her fists and granting Ratchet her full attention, "I'm listening."

Taking a deep breath, the Lombax collected his thoughts; an oddly fascinating thing to watch. When he spoke, his words were carefully constructed, "I... think I made a friend, recently. I dunno. He's going to be living with me for a while and... well, he's a nice guy and everything, but, it's like... I can talk to him, and stuff, and not feel the need to, you know, fight him away. It's weird," While speaking, Ratchet had let himself get carried away, waving his arms around fervently; now, however, he caught himself and went back to his guarded positioning, "I don't like it."

"So, you don't feel the need to defend yourself from him," Summarized the therapist with a pointed look, "I fail to see the problem here, Ratchet. Isn't this a good thing?"

"Not really, no," The Lombax gave a shuttering gasp, "I mean, I almost _died_, not too long ago, and it would have been perfectly fine if I did. Not like anyone'd miss me, I thought. Then he just flew up outta nowhere and saved me and got hurt," Ratchet caught himself, stopping his rambling for a second to collect his thoughts, "And I felt... guilty. Not cause he saved me or even that he got hurt... I felt guilty because I wouldn't have minded dying right then. And he'd have been left with that and..." Running out of things to say, he just repeated himself, "I just don't like this."

Comprehension dawned on the doctor, though she kept it off of her face. Gracing Ratchet with a rare, gentle smile, she spoke neutrally and professionally, "I think I see your problem. And must I say, this is quite the conundrum."

"Yeah," Ratchet took a moment's breather, and she let him. Finally, he spoke again, "I think I have a problem."

"You certainly have changed since our last meeting," The doctor commented almost idly as she pushed herself off the desk and moved to face her computer, moving and rearranging until Ratchet's schedule showed up on screen. Moving it back to its original position, she turned to give him a slight nod of approval, "It looks like saving the galaxy did you some good."

Almost cryptically, Ratchet corrected, "Saving the galaxy had nothing to do with it. Well, not really," One hand rubbing at the back of his neck, Ratchet asked, "So, I'll see you at the usual time?"

"Yes," The doctor agreed, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips as Ratchet's time frame was restored to her schedule, "You will," With that, the Lombax quietly slipped out, pulling the door closed behind him. Only when he was gone did the smile break out on her face, subtle and small but still there. Her fingers returned to her work, but her mind remained on the Lombax.

Whenever she met this mysterious friend, she'd have to thank him.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Oh my god... we're done. Epilogue, done. That's it. Well, that's not _it_, it. Just, wow. Never really thought this day would come, ya know?

What did I do good on?: The beginning was just... really good, in my opinion.

What did I fail on?: Awkward Ratchet is awkward to write.

So, anyways, a few things to tell you. I have some projects I'm going to be working on post this story. So, as of Monday, July 15, 2013, here's what I'm planning on doing:

Carpe Diem Sequel: Yes, there will be a sequel with R&C2:GC. As of now, it's in the planning stages. At the earliest, it'll be up in my first week of college; at latest, around late November/early December. I'm not going to rush this and mess it up, okay?

Unnamed Ratchet/Clank story: Again, still in the planning stages; this one is an Au-ish kinda deal. I'll go into detail when it's posted.

30 Days OTP Prompts Meme: Will be begun as soon as I find the prompt list. Just something to do, I guess.

Behind the Mask: An R&C adaptation of Majora's Mask; heavily based off of and inspired by the game, but not actually the same. Just... just let me have my fun, okay? First few chapters are finished, will be posted when I have a little more done.

One-shots?: Eh, a few ideas. They'll be up whenever.

So, basically, my future plans are: come up with things and write them whenever you feel like it. Isn't that grand?

Final thoughts on Carpe Diem: This is my first multi-chapter fanfiction, and it succeeded on so many levels. I'm probably gonna look back on this one day and be like, "pfft, that was so stupid," but right now it, and you guys, are literally my greatest fanfiction accomplishment. Of course, there're some things I just couldn't fit in but, eh, what are ya gonna do? Overall, I'm really proud of this. And I'm glad you all enjoyed it too (hopefully).

**Final Stats (As of June 15, 2013):**

Favorite Chapter: After going through them all again and correcting all the typos I could find... I would say Orxon II: Teamwork is still my favorite chapter. There's just something about the symbolism that draws me in.

Least Favorite Chapter: To my increasing surprise, Metropolis: Goals was actually the most taxing chapter to go through and correct. Maybe because it's the longest, but I've corrected a twenty-page essay, so that can't be it... I dunno.

Word Count: 144,344

Reviews: 125

Favorites: 32

Follows: 25

Random Question For Reviewers: What was your favorite chapter and why?


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